Page 57. 




S&rjecmt Jasper^ rescuing the Jmarican prisoners. 



TUB LXFS 

or 

GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 

A CELEBRATED 
IN THE 

AGAINST THE 

BRITISH AND TORIES 
IN SOUTH CAROLINA AND GEORIIA 

. -^^^^^ 

% 

BY BRIG. GEN. P. HORRY, OP MARION'S BRIGADB ! 
AND M. L. WBEM«. 



• On Verwow's Chief, why lavish all our lays ; ^ 

« Come, honest Muse, and sing great Mariow g praise. 



flTERBOTYPED BT (» JOHNSOW. 

PHILADELPHIA : 
PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH ALLEN, 

AND SOLD BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 

No. 9 North Fourth Stre«t. 

1837. 






Ea»Um Distriet of Pennsylvania, te unt : 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That oa th« twtoty.fifUi Jay 

of September, in the forlj-ninth jesr of the Independenee of the 

United States of America, A. D. 1824, H. C. Carey & I. Lea, of 

tb« said district, have deposited m this office the title ef a book, the 

rig^hl whereof they claim as proprietors, in the word* foUowit^ 

M> wit: 

*The Life of Gen. Francis Marion, a celebrated partiian officer in 

" the Rerolutionary War, against the British and Tories in South 

•Carolina and Georgia, By Brigadier General P, Hqrry, of 

^Marym'i Brigade, and M. L. Weems. 

• On Vernon's Chiefi why lavish all ow laya ? 
•Come, honest Muse, and sing great Marion's piuise.* 
I« Conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United Stales, 
•■titled, ** As Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing 
Che Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprie- 
ton of such Copies, during the times therein mentioQed^" — And ako 
tD th* Act, entitled, ^ An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, 
• An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the Copieg 
of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of 
9Qch Copies during the times therein mentioned, azul extendiiig 
the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, flf)gravi«g« a^ etcjkuog 
llisiorical and other prints.* 

D. CALDWELL, 
Clerk of the Easlera Diatriot of Fenncylvaota 

N. B. The aborre Copy- Right has beea purahaaed by Joseph 
AUeo, suad us regularly tracs^Mred to him. 






If 



PREFACE. 



" THA T mine enemy rvcnld write a bookJ^ — This, 
in former times, passed for as sore an evil as a good 
man could think of wishing to his worst enemv.— 
Whether any of my enemies ever wished me so great 
an evil, I know not. But certain it is, I never dream- 
ed of such a thing as wridng a book ; and least of all 
a rmr hook. What, I ! a man here under the frozen 
zone and grand climacteric of my days, with one foot 
in the grave and the other hard by, to quit my prayer 
book and crutches, (an old man's best companions;^ 
and drawing my sword, flourish and fight over agam 
the battles of my youth. 

The Lord forbid me such madness ! But what can 
one do when one's friends are eternally teazing him, 
as they are me, and calling out at every whipstitch 
and comer of the streets, " Well, but, sir, where's 
Marion? where's the history of Marion, that we have 
so long" been looking' for P* 

'Twas in \^in that I told them I was no scholar; 
no historian. " God," said I, " gentlemen, has made 
* many Tien of many minds ;' one for this thing and 
another for that. But I am morally certain he nevei 
made me for a writer. I did indeed once understand 
something about the use of a broad-sword ; but as to 
a pen, gentlemen, that's quite another part of speech. 
The difference between a broad-sword and a pen, 
gendemen, is prodi^ous ; and it is not every officer, 
let me tell you, gentlemen, who can, like Cxsar, fighi 
A2 



IT PREFACE. 

you a great battle with his sword to-day, and fight it 
over again as elegantly with his pen to-inorrow." 

" Burn Cxsar /" replied they, " and his book too. 
If it -were written in letters of gold^rue -would not read 
it. What have honest republicans like us to do with 
such an ambitious cut-throat and robber ? Besides 
sir, your reasoning about scholarship, and fine style, 
and all that, does not, begging your pardon, apply at 
all to the case in hand. Small subjects indeed, re- 
quire great writers to set them off; but great sub- 
jects require no such artificial helps : like true beau- 
ties, they shine most in the simplest dress. Marion 
is one of this sort : great in his simplicity. Then 
give us Marion — ^plain, brave, honest Marion ; that's 
all we want, sir. And you can do this better than 
any other man. You have known him longest j have 
fought closest by his side : and can best tell us of his 
noble deeds. And surely now, after all, you can't 
bear to let him die, and all his great actions, and be 
forgotten forever." 

This, I confess, went to the quick, and roused me 
completely. " What! Marion forgotten ?^'' I exclaim- 
ed, ^'' Marion forgotten ! and by me P^ No, never! 
never ! while memory looks back on the dreadful 
days of the revolution ; when a British despot, not 
the NATION, (for I esteem them most generous,) but 
a proud^ stupid^ obstinate^ despot,, trampling the holy 
CHARTER and constitution of England's realm, issued 
against us, (sons of Britons,) that most unrighteous 
edict, taxation without representation ! and then, be- 
cause in the spirit of our gallant fathers, we bravely 
opposed him, he broke up the very fountains of his 
malice, and let loose upon us every indescribable, 
unimaginable curse of civil -war; when British ar- 
mies, with their Hessian, and Indian, and tory allies, 
overran my afflicted country, swallowing up its fruits 
and filing every part with consternation ; when no- 



PREFACE. V 

thing was to be seen but flying crowds, burning 
houses, and young men, (alas! too often,) hanging 
upon the trees like dogs, and old men wringing their 
withered hands over their murdered boys, and wo- 
men and children weeping and flying from their 
ruined plantations into the starving woods! When I 
think, I say, of these things, oh my God! how can I 
ever forget Marion, that vigilant, undaunted soldier, 
whom thy own mercy raised up to scourge such 
monsters, and avenge his country's wrongs. 

The Washington of the south, he steadily pursued 
the warfare most safe for us, and most fatal to our 
enemies. He taught us to sleep in the swamps, to 
feed on roots, to drink the turbid waters of the ditch, 
to prowl nightly round the encampments of the foe 
like lions round the habitations of the shepherds who 
had slaughtered their cubs. Sometimes he taught us 
to fall upon the enemy by surprise, distracting the 
midnight hour with the horrors of our battle; at other 
times, when our forces were increased, he led us on 
boldly to the charge, hewing the enemy to pieces, 
under the approving light of day. Oh, Marion, my 
friend ! my friend ! never can I forget thee. Although 
thy wars are all ended, and thyself at rest in the 
grave, yet I see thee still. I see thee as thou wert 
wont to ride, most terrible in battle to the enemies of 
thy country. Thine eyes like balls of fire, flamed be- 
neath thy lowering brows. But lovely still wert thou 
in mercy, thou bravest among the sons of men! For, 
soon as the enemy sinking under our swords, cried 
for quarter, thy heart swelled with commiseration, 
and thy countenance was changed, even as the coun- 
tenance of a man who beheld the slaughter of his 
brothers. The basest tory who could but touch the 
hem of thy garment was safe. The avengers of blood 
stopped short in thy presence, and turned away 
abashed from the lightning of thine eyes. 



^* 'RIFACE. 



O that my pen were of the quili of the swan tl,« 
rfif f°'-/"*"rdays! thenshoSldst thou'myfrie.? 
receive the fukess of thy fame. The fatC^ of th, 
years to come, should talk of thy noble S and 

&"* /^d ruheth-aii t; th" ^"'^ '^» f ' 

should follow the- in the nath „f 5k ^ ''"''"^'' *'^«^ 
.hcmseU-es the f^Cfetrof^ftC^-- 

PETER HORRY. 



THE LIFE 

OF 

GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 



CHAPTER L 

Short sketch of an extraordinary French couple^ viz. 
the grandfather and mother of our hero — their 
early and happy loves — cruel persecution of the 
priests — final expulsion from their native country*-^ 
providential settlement in South Carolina— their 
prosperous and exemplary lives — singular will of 
old 31arion — and birth of his grandson^ Francis. 

Immortal may their memory be 
Who fought and ble<i for liberty. 

ONE thousand seven hundred and thirty-two was 
a glorious year for America. It gave birth to two of 
the noblest thunderbolts of her wars, George Wash- 
ington and Francis Marion. The latter was born in 
St, John's parish, South Carolina. His father also 
was a Carolinian, but his grandfather was a Hugue- 
not or French Protestant, who lived near Rochell«, 
in the blind and bigoted days of Louis XIV. 

The priests, who are the persecutors in all countries 
except America, could not bear that he should wor- 
ship God in his own way, or dream of going to heaven 
but in their leading strings, and therefore soon gave 



8 THE LIFE OF 

him to understand, that he must either " recant oi 
trot ;'' that is, quit his heresy or his country. 

Too* brave to play the hypocrite, and too wise tf 
hope for happiness with a " wounded spirit," h< 
quickly made up his mind, and, like faithful Abra- 
ham, forsook his country, to wander an exile in landi 
unknown. The angel who guides the footsteps or the 
virtuous, directed his course to South Carolina; and 
as a reward for his piety, placed him in a land where 
mighty deeds and honours were ripening for his 
grandson. Nor did he wander alone. A cherub, 
in the form of a lovely wife, followed his fortunes, 
and gave him to know, from happy experience, that 
where love is, there is no exile. 

Previous to his expulsion, the priests had, for 
some time, suspected young Marion of what they 
called " heresy?"^ But, learning that he was enamour- 
ed of the beautiful and accomplished Mademoiselle 
Louisa D'Aubrey, and like to win her affections, 
they withheld for a while, their sacred thunders, 
hoping, that through fear of them, and love of her, 
he might yet return to the bosom of the Catholic 
Church, to which she belonged. 

Young Marion's suit to his fair mistress, was for- 
tunate to the full extent of an ardent lover's wishes. 
The charming girl repaid his passion with such libe- 
ral interest, that, in a short time after the commence- 
ment of their delicious friendship, she received him 
for her husband, in spite of all that wealthier wooers 
could promise, or frowning friends could threaten. 

The neighbouring clergy now marked the conduct 
of Marion with a keener eye ; and discovering in 
him no symptoms that pointed to recantation, they 
furiously pressed the bishop to enforce against him 
the edict of banishment. 

At this time, Marion with his lovely Louisa, were 
living on a small farm in the vicinit^ of Rochelle. ' 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 9 

As he walked one afternoon in the main street of 
that city, he was very rudely accosted by a couple of 
officers of the holy inquisition, whose looks and dress 
were as dark and diabolical as their employment. . 

" Fow* etes nommes Marion P^^ said they; that is 
•* your name is Marion ?" 

" Yes, gentlemen, that is my name." 

Upon this, they rudely thrust a letter into his hand, 
and turned away, but with such looks as tigers throw 
at a tender lambkin, whose well-guarded fold forbids 
their access. On opening the letter he found as 
follows : 

"Your damnable heresy, well deserves, even in 
this life, that purgation by fire which awfully awaits 
it in the next. But, in consideration of your youth 
and worthy connexions, our mercy has condescended 
to commute your punishment to perpetual exile. — 
You will therefore, instantly prepare to quit your 
country for ever. For, if after ten days from the 
date hereof, you should be found in any part of the 
Kingdom, your miserable body shall be consumed 
Dy fire, and your impious ashes scattered on the 
tvinds of heaven. 

"Pere Rochelle."* 

Had this dreadful letter been presented to Marion 
even while a bachelor, it would have filled him with 

* I forewarn all my friends from thinking me capable of charging 
this rile persecuting spirit on the " Old W — e of Rome''' exclusively. 
No, thank God, I have not so learned human nature. And they who 
are yet to learn, may, by reading the " Catholic Layman," soon get 
letisfied, that the priests are as apt to abuse power as the people^ and 
ihat, when " clcSd with a little brief aulhorily^'^ protestants as well as 
rapists, have committed those cruelties which make milder devils 
olush. [By way of a note on a note, I would observe, that the " Ca- 
Violic Layman^^ is a very sensible and spirited pamphlet ; the pro- 
iuction, it is said, of Mathew Carey, Esq. of Philadelphi'. '^'C 
though a Roman Catholic, has printed more protestant Bibleis . 
Testaments thac hal/ the preachers and printers in America put to 
lather.] 



10 THE LIFE OF 

horror; for the heart naturally cleaves to the spot 
where it awoke into being, and quits, with tearful 
eyes, the scenes among which were spent the first and 
happiest days of life. But ties stronger than those 
of nature bound Marion to his country. His coun- 
try was the country of his Louisa. How could he 
live without her? And how could he hope that she 
would ever consent to leave her parents and friends 
to wander and die with him in hopeless exile ? 

But though greatly dejected, yet he did not de- 
spair. He still trusted in that parent-power who 
smiles even under frowns, and often pours his rich- 
est showers from the blackest clouds. Cheered with 
this hope, he put the letter into his pocket, and set 
out to seek his Louisa. 

With arms fondly interlocked, she had accompa- 
nied him that morning to the gate on the back of the 
garden, through which he generally passed when he 
went to Rochelle. Soon as hia horse was led up, and 
he about to mount, she snatched the bridle, and 
laughing, vowed he should not go until he had pro- 
mised her one thing. 

**Well, charmer, what's that?" 
"Why that you will return very soon." 
**Well, indeed I will; so now let me go." 
* "Oh no! I am afraid that when you get out of 
sight you will play truant. You must give me seen* 
rity." 

*<Well, Louisa, what security shall I give you?" 
**Why you must give me that thing, whatever it 
be, that you hold most dear in all the world." 

"Well done! and now, Louisa, I give you your- 
self, the dearest thing God ever gave me in all this 
world." 

At this her fine face was reddened all over with 
blushing joy, while her love-sparkling eyes, beaming 
on his, awakened that transport which those who 
hare felt it would not exchange for worlds. TheB> 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 11 

after the fond, lengthened kiss, and tender sigh of 
happy lovers parting, he rode off. 

Soon as he was out of her sight, she turned to go to 
the house. As she passed along the garden, the sud- 
den fancy struck her to adorn the summer house with 
evergreens and flowers of the liveliest tints, and 
there, amidst a wilderness of sv/eets, to receive her 
returning lover. Animated with this fond sugges- 
tion of conjugal ajfectton^ (woman's true life,) which 
at every quickened pulse diffused an ansv/ering rap- 
ture through the virtuous breast, she commenced her 
pleasing task ; and with her task she mingled the 
music of her voice, clear and strong as the morning 
tark, and sweet as from a heart full of innocence and 
love. The pleasant sounds reached the ear of Ma- 
rion, as he drew near the garden. Then, entering the 
gate without noise, he walked up, unperceived, close 
to her as she sat all alone in the arbour, binding her 
fragrant flowers and singing the happy hours away 
She was singing her favourite hymn, by Madani 
Guion. 

" That love I sin^, that wondroui lov», 

" Which wak'd my slaepmg clay ; 
•* That spread tho sky m azure bright, 

" And pour'd the golden day," &c. &c. 

To see youth and beauty, though in a stranger, 
thus pointing to heaven, is delightful to a pious heart. 
Then what rapture to an enlightened soul to see a 
beloved wife thus communing with God, and becom- 
mg every day more and more angelic ! 

Soon as her song was finished, he called out, 
"Louisa !" 

Startled at the sudden call, she turned around to 
the well-known voice, presenting a face on which 
love and sweet surprise had spread those rosy 
charms, which in a moment banished all his sorrows. 
' My dearest Gabriel," she exclaimed, dropping her 
B 



..« THE LIFE OF 

flowers, and running and throwing herself into his 
arms, " here, take back your security ! take back 
your security ! and also my thanks for being such a 
man of honour. But what brought you back, love, 
50 much earlier than you expected ?" 

Here the memory of that fatal letter went like a 
dagger to his heart, bleaching his manly cheeks. 

He would have evaded the question; but in vain, 
for Louisa, startled at the sudden paleness of his 
looks, insisted the more earnestly to know the cause. 

He delayed a moment, but conscious that the se- 
cret must soon come out, he took the letter from his 
pocket, and with a reluctant hand put it into hers. 

Scarcely had she run through it, which she did 
with the most devouring haste, when she let it drop 
from her hands, and faintly articulating, " Ah, cruel 
priest !" she fell upon his bosom, which she bathed 
with her tears. 

After some moments of distress too big for utter- 
ance, Marion, deeply sighing, at length broke silence. 

" Ah, Louisa ! and must we part so soon !" 

At this, starting up with eyes suffused with tears, 
but beaming immortal love, she hastily replied— 
" Part !^* 

" Yes !" continued he, " part ! for ever part !'* 

" No, Marion, no ! never ! never !" 

" Ah ! can you, Louisa, leave father and mother^ 
and follow a poor banished husband like me ?" 

" Yes— yes— father, mother, and all the world will 
I leave to follow thee, Marion !" 

" O blessed priest, I thank you! Good bishop Ro- 
chelle, holy father in God, I thank you — -your perse- 
cution has enriched me above princes. It has dis- 
covered to me a mine of love in Louisa's soul, that 
I never dreamed of before." 

" My dearest Gabriel, did you ever doubt my 
love ?" 

" Pardon me, my love, I never doubted your love, 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 1^ 

'^h no! I knew you loved me. The circumstances un* 
der which you married me gave me delicious proof 
of that. To have preferred me to so many wealthier 
wooers — to have taken me as a husband to the para- 
dise of your arms, when so many others would have 
sent me as a heretic to the purgatory of the inquisi- 
tion, was evidence of love never to be forgotten ; but 
that in addition to all this you should now be so 
ready to leave father and mother, country and kin, to 
follow me, a poor wanderer in the earth, without 

even a place where to lay my head '^ 

" Yes, yes," replied she, eagerly interrupting him, 
"* that's the very reason I would leave all to follow 
you. For, oh my love ! how could I enjoy father or 
mother, country or kin, and you a wanderer in the 
earth, without a place whereon to lay your head ! That 
single thought would cover my days with darkness, 
and drive me to distraction. But give me your com- 
pany, my Gabriel, and then welcome that foreign land 
with all its shady forests ! Welcome the thatched 
cottage and the little garden filled with the fruits of 
our own fondly mingled toils ! Methinks, my love, I 
already see that distant sun rising with gladsome 
beams on our dew-spangled flowers. I hear the wild 
wood-birds pouring their sprightly carols on the 
sweet-scented morning. My heart leaps with joy to 
their songs. Then, O my husband ! if we must go, 
let us go without a sigh. God can order it for our 
good. And, on my account, you shall cast no lin- 
gering look behind. I am ready to follow you 
wherever you go. Your God shall be my God. 
Where you live I will live, and where you die, there 
will I die, and will be buried by your side. Nothing 
my beloved, but death, shall ever part me from you.^' 
" Angelic Louisa !" cried Marion, snatching her 
to his bosom in transports — ^*' Wondrous woman ! 
what do I not owe to God, ever blessed, for such 9 
comforter! I came just now from Rochelle with tixa 



H THE LIFE OF 

load of a mountain on my heart. You have taken ofT 
that mountain, and substituted a joy most lightsome 
and heavenly. Like a ministering angel, you have 
confirmed me in duty ; you have ended my struggles 
— and by so cheerfully offering to forsake all and fol- 
low me, you have displayed a love, dear Louisa, 
which will, I trust, render you, next to my God, the 
€temal complacency and delight of my soul." 

In the midst of this tender scene, a servant came 
running to inform Louisa that her mother, Madame 
D' Aubrey, had just arrived, and was coming to her 
in the garden. This startled our lovers into a pain 
ful expectation of another trial. For as Louisa was 
an only daughter, and her parents doatingly fond of 
her, it was not to be imagined that they would give 
her up without a hard struggle. Seeing the old lady 
coming down the walk towards them, they endea- 
voured to adjust their looks, and to meet her with the 
wonted smile. But in vain. The tumult in their bo- 
soms was still too visible in their looks to escape her 
discernment. She eagerly asked the cause. Their 
changing countenances served but to increase her 
fears and the vehemence of her curiosity. The bi- 
shop's letter was put into her hands. Its effects on 
the good old lady were truly distressmg. Not hav- 
ing, like her daughter, the vigour of youth, nor the 
fervours of love to support her, she was almost over- 
come. 

Soon as her spirits were a little recovered, she in- 
sisted that her daughter and son-in-law should in- 
stantly step into her coach and go home with her 
" Your father, my dear," said she to Louisa, " your 
father, Monsieur D' Aubrey, will, I am certain, do 
something for us." 

But in this she was wofuUy mistaken, for Mon- 
sieur D' Aubrey was one of that blind sort who v»lace 
all their religion in forms and notions He could 
«mile and look very fond upon a man, though not 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. U 

over moral, provided that man went to his church- 
praised his preacher and opinions, and abused every 
body else ; but would look very sour on the best man 
on earth who differed from him in those things. In 
short, he was destitute of love, the sole life of reli- 
gion. And though on account of his wife's importu 
nities and his daughter's repose, he had consented to 
her marriage with Marion, yet he never liked the 
young heretic^ and therefore he read the order of hiu 
banishment without any burse of grief, and made no 
effort to revoke the decrees of the church against 
him, but abandoned him to his fate. 

Such insensibility to her husband's interest dii- 
tressed poor Louisa exceedingly. However, it had 
this good effect : It contributed greatly to lessen her 
regret at parting with her parents. 

" O had they but loved me as you do, my Marion," 
said she, " could they have besn so indifferent when 
my all was at stake ? No, indeed," continued she, 
" they could not," and burst into tears. 

" Dearest Louisa !" replied he, tenderly embracing 
her, " would not I leave father and mother and all 
for you ?" 

" Well," returned she, with eyes of love, out- 
shining all diamonds, " and am I not going to leave 
all for you ? Yet a few days and I shall have no fa- 
ther, no mother, no country ; cut off from all the 
world but you, Marion ! alas ! what will become of 
me if you should prove cruel to me ?" 

" Cruel ! cruel to you, Louisa ! O my God, can 
that ever be ?" 

" Ah Marion ! but some excellent women have left 
father and mother, and followed their husbands ; and 
yet after all have been cruelly neglected by them !" 

" Yes, Louisa; and God forgive them for that hor- 
rid crime ! But to me such a deed were utterly im- 
possible. I live for happiness, Louisa, I live for hap- 
piness, my angel. And I find so much happiness in 
B3 



16 . THE LIFE OF 

loving, that I would as soon cease to live as cease to 
love. Some indeed, sordid celebates for example, 
seem to exist without love ; but it is only a seeming 
existence, most joyless and imperfect. And they bear 
the dulness of apathy the better, because they have 
never known the transports of affection. But with 
me, my charmer, the case is happily different ; for at 
the moment I first saw those angel eyes, they infused 
a sweetness into my heart unknown before. And 
those delicious sparks, fanned by your loves and 
graces, have now risen to such a flame of bliss, that 
methinks, were it to go out, my life would go o i 
with it. Then, my first and last, and only sweetheart, 
I pray you, do not fear that I shall ever cease to love 
you : for indeed that can never be while you con- 
tinue even half as lovely as you are at present." 

" Well then, Marion," replied she, fondly pressing 
his ruddy cheeks to her heaving bosom, " if it de- 
pends on me, on my constant affection and studious- 
ness to please, you shall never love me less ; but 
more and more every day of your life." 

The next morning, accompanied by Madame 
D' Aubrey, Marion and Louisa returned home in or- 
der to make the best preparations, which the short- 
ness of the time would allow, to quit their country 
for ever. 

In choosing his place of exile, it has been said thai 
Marion's thoughts were at first turned towards the 
VVest Indies. But it would appear that Heaven had 
-lecret d for him a different direction. For scarce!} 
had he reached his home, much agitated about the 
means of getting off in time, before a letter %vas 
brought him, from an intimate friend in Rochelle, in- 
forming him that a large ship, chartered for the Ca- 
rulinas, by several wealthy Huguenot families, was 
then lying at anchor under tlie Isle de Rhee. Grate- 
fully regarding this as a beckoning from heaven, 
they at once commenced their work, and prosecuted 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ' 17 

it with such spirit, that on the evening of the ninth 
day they embraced their weeping friends and went 
on board the ship. 

It is said that many of the most respectable fami- 
lies of Carolina — the Gourdines, Hugers, Trapiers, 
Postells, Horrys, &c. came over in the same ship. 

The next day, the clouds began to bank the eastern 
sky, and the winds to whistle from the hills. Pleased 
with the darkly rippling waters, the ready ship got 
home her anchors and loosed her sails. Then wheel- 
ing before the freshening gale, she bid adieu to her 
native shores, and on wings of wide-spread canvas, 
commenced her foaming course for the western world. 

But though mutual love and confidence in heaven 
were strong in the bosoms of young Marion and his 
Louisa, yet could they not suppress the workings of 
nature, which would indulge her sorrows when look- 
ing back on the lessening shores ; they beheld dwin- 
dled to a point and trembling in the misty sky, that 
glorious land, at once their own cradle and the se- 
pulchre of their fathers. 

Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them 
soon, for the earth was all before them where to 
choose their place of rest ; and Providence their 
guide. 

But Marion and Louisa did not leave their coun- 
try empty handed. Her Parents, 'tis supposed, gave 
Louisa money, but what sum, after this long lapse of 
time, is uncertain. Nor does tradition say for how 
much Marion sold his little farm. But it is well known 
that on their arrival in Carolina, they went up into the 
country, and bought a plantation on Goose creek, near 
Charleston, where their dust nov/ sleeps, after a long 
life endeared by mutual love, and surrounded by 
every comfort that industry and prudence can be- 
stow. 

We have said that Marion left his country for the 
sake of his religion; which appears to have been of 



18 THE LIFE OF 

that cheerful sort for which a wise man would make 
any sacrifice. It was the religion of the gospel, that 
blessed philosophy which asks not a face of gloom, but 
a heart of joy. And thereunto enjoin a supreme love 
of God, and a close walk with him in a pure and be- 
nevolent life. From this, the genuine spring of all the 
sweetest charities and joys of life, Marion derived 
that cheerfulness which appears never to have failed 
him. Even in his last will, where most men fancy 
they ought to be gloomy as the grave whither they 
are going, his cheerfulness continued to shine with 
undiminished lustre. It was like the setting of a 
cloudless sun : which, after pouring its fattening 
beams on the fields of a livelong summer's day, goes 
down in smiles to rise a brighter beauty on another 
day. This will is certainly an amiable curiosity, and 
as it may be of service to the reader, by showing him 
how free and easy a good life makes a man with 
death, I will record it : at least the principal features 
of it, as I got them from the family. 

After having, in the good old way, bequeathed 
" his soul to God who gave it," and " his body to the 
earth out of which it was taken," he proceeds in the 
manner following : 

In the J^rst place, as to debts, thank God, I owe 
none. And therefore shall give my executors but 
little trouble on that score. 

tSccondly — As to the poor, I have always treated 
them as my brethren. My dear family will, I know, 
follow my example. 

TJi'irdlij — As to the wealth with which God has 
been pleased to bless me and my dear Louisa and 
children, lovingly we have laboured together for it — ' 
lovingly we have enjoyed it — and now, with a glad 
and grateful heart do I leave it among them. 

He then proceeds to the distribution. Liberally to 
his children : but far more so to his wife — and at 
ihe end of each bequest assigns his reasons, viz. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19 

I give my ever beloved Louisa all my ready money 

that she may never be alarmed at a sudden call. 
I give her all my fat calves and lambs, my pigs and 

poultry — that she may always keep a good table. 
I give her my new carriage and horses— that she 

may visit her friends in comfort. 
I give her my family bible — that she may live above 

the ill tempers and sorrows of life. 
I give my son Peter a hornbook — for I am afraid he 

will always be a dunce. 

But Peter was so stung with this little squib, that 
he instantly quit his raccoon hunting by nights, and 
betook himself to reading, and soon became a very 
sensible and charming young man. 

His eldest son, who, after his father, was named 
Gabriel, married a Miss Charlotte Corde, by whom 
he had six children — Esther, Gabriel, Isaac, Benja- 
min, Job, and our hero Francis, the least as well as 
the last of the family. As to his sister Esther, I 
have never heard what became of her; but for his 
four brothers, I am happy to state, that though not 
formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as 
citizens. They bought farms — proved their oxen- 
married wives — multiplied good children, and thus, 
very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a 
liberal and laudable part to the population, strength, 
and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily, 
take kind notice of all such ; and grant, that having 
thus done his will in this world, they may partake or 
his glory in the next. 



so THE LIFE OF 



CHAPTER II. 

Marion^^' first appearance — an humble cultivator of 
the earth — the great Cherokee war of 17&1 comes 
on-^volunteers his services to his country — is ap" 
pointed a Jirst lieutenant in the provincial line^^ 
commands a forlorn hope — narroivhj escapes ivith 
his life — the Anglo-American and the Indian forces 
eji gaged — bloody battle — the Indians defeated — ■ 
their country laid luaste — peace made — Marion 
retires. 

AMONG the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant 
practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military 
granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for 
the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he 
was presently thro'svTi into a horse pond with as little 
ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order 
of the day in 17o2, Carolina would never have 
boasted a Marion ; for I have it from good authority 
that this great soldier, at his birtli, was not larger 
than a New England lobster, and might easily 
enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny 
appearance continued with him till the age of tweh e, 
when it was removed by the following extraordinary 
providence. 

On a ti'ip to the West Indies, which his friends put 
him upon lor his healtirs sake, the little schooner in 
which he was embarked was suddenly attacked by 
some monstrous fish, probably a thorn-back whale, 
who ga\e it such a terrible stroke with his tail as 
started a plank. The frightened crew flew to their 
pumps, but in vain ; for the briny flood rushed with 
such fury into thejr vessel, that they were glad to quit 
her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little 
jolly boat. The event showed that this was as but 
a leap " out of the frying pan into the fre T for their 
schooner went down so suddenly as not to give them 



GLN. FRANCIS MARION. 21 

hme to take a mouthful of food with them, not even 
so much as a brown biscuit or a pint of water. After 
three wretched days of feverish hunger and thirst, 
they agreed to kill a little cabin dog who had swam 
to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On 
his raw Jleah they feasted without restraint ; but the 
hlocd they preserved with more economy, to coo 
their parched lips. In a few days, however, their owi 
blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot 
as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth 
day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving 
mad ; and the day following the two remaining sea- 
men expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously 
crying to the last for water ! -water ! God of his 
mercy forgive me, who have so often drank of that 
sweet beverage without grateful acknowledgments ! 
Scarcely was this melancholy scene concluded be- 
fore a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the 
boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was 
tossing in it on the gloomy waves. 

Little Marion was so weak that he could not stir 
hand or foot to climb up the side of the vessel. The 
captain, however, soon had him on board; and by 
means of chocolate and turtle broth, sparingly given 
him at first, recruited him so fast, that, by the time 
he reached his native shores, he was in much better 
health than ever. So that on his return to his friends, 
it was found, as is often the case, that what was at first 
looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very 
noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed, his 
frame commenced a second and rapid growth ; while 
his cheeks, quitting their pale suet-coloured cast, as- 
sumed a bright and healthy olive. According to the 
6est accounts that I have been able to procure, Ma- 
rion never thought of another trip to sea, but conti- 
nued in his native parish, in that most independent 
and Viappy of all callings, a cultivator of the earth, 
till his twenty-seventh year. 



218 THE LIFE OF 

A report then prevailing that the Cherokee Indians 
were murdering" the frontier settlers, Marion turned 
out with his rifle, as a volunteer under governor Lyt- 
tleton. The affair, however, proved to be a mere flash 
in the pan : for the Cherokee s finding that things 
were not exactly in the train they wished, sent on a 
deputation with their wampum belts and peace-talks 
to bury the hatchet and brighten the old chain of 
friendship with the whites ; and the good-natured 
governor, thinking them sincere, concluded a treaty 
with them. The troops of course were dismissed, 
and Marion returned to his plantation. 

Scarcely, however, had two years elapsed, before 
the perfidious Cherokees broke out again in a fresh 
place, killing and driving the defenceless inhabitants 
at a most barbarous rate. Marion instantly flew again 
to the governor with the tender of his services to fight 
for his afflicted countrymen. His excellency was sc 
pleased with this second instance of Marion's patriot- 
ism, that he gave him a first lieutenancy in the pro- 
vincial line under the brave captain William Moul- 
trie. The reported force and fury of the Indians 
struck such a terror through the colony, that colonel 
Grant (of the British) with twelve hundred regulars. 
wis ordered out on a forced march to succour the 
bleeding frontiers. 

On their way they were joined at Ninety-six, Ma^ 
14, 1761, by twelve hundred provincials, all men of 
surest aim with the deadly rifle. 

To draw off the enemy from their murderous ex< 
cursions, Col. Grant wisely determined to push tht 
war at once into their own country ; which was nt 
sooner discovered by them, than they instantly col- 
lected their whole force to oppose him. The onh 
passage into their country was through a dark defile 
or gap in the mountain, which it was resolved shoul* 
be forced as rapidly as possible. A forlorn of thirn 
brave fellows were ordered to explore fiie dangercu^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 23 

pass : and Marion, though but a young lieutenant, 
had the honour to be appointed their leader. At the 
head of his command he advanced with rapidity, 
while the army moved on to support him. But 
scarcely had they entered the gloomy defile, when, 
from behind the rocks and trees, a sheet of fire sud- 
denly blazed forth, which killed twenty-one of his 
men ! With the remainder, he faced about and push- 
*_'d back with all speed ; whereupon great numbers 
of tall savages, frightfully painted, rushed from their 
lurking places, and with hideous yells and uplifted 
iomahawks, pursued and gained upon them so fast, 
that nothing but the nearness of the advanced guard 
saved them from destruction. The Anglo-Ameri- 
can army then prepared themselves for a serious and 
bloody conflict. 

An enemy in such force, so well posted, and de- 
lending the only pass in their country, would, they 
well knew, fight desperately. And well aware, also, 
what slaughter would follow upon their own defeat, 
they determined to yield the victory only with their 
Jives. A long summer's day was before them, for the 
sun had just risen above the hills, a bright spectator 
of the coming fight. Then, in high spirits, with jus- 
tice on their side, and an approving conscience, they 
sheerfuUy left the event to Heaven. The British were 
formed in small corps, the more promptly to suppor*^ 
the riflemen, who led the van, and now with wide 
extended wings began to move. In a little time they 
came in sight of the enemy, who appeared flying 
backwards and forwards, as if not well satisfied with 
their ground. The provincial marksmen then rapidly 
advancing, flew each to his tree, and the action began. 
From v/ing to wing, quite across the defile, the woods 
aopeared as if all on fire-j while the incessant crash 
oK small arms tortured the ear like claps of sharpest 
thunder. The muskets of the British, like their native 
bn!l-dogSy kept up a dreadful roar, but scarcely did 



214 THE LIFE OF 

more than bark die trees, or cut off the branches above 
the heads of the Indians. While, with far less noise, 
the fatal rifles continued to lessen the numbers of the 
enemy. The action was kept up with great spirit for 
nearly two hours, during which the superiority of the 
American riflemen was very remarkably displayed. 
For in that time they lost only fifty-one — whereas of 
the Indians there fell one hundred and three, which 
so disheartened them that they fled and gave up their 
country to the conquerors, who prepared immedi- 
atelv to enter it. 

Colonel Grant had hoped to surprise their towns, 
but concluding that their swift-footed runners had 
given the alarm, he moved on in slow marches 
through the wilderness towards the settlements, 
thinking that by the destruction of their towns and 
corn-fields he should drive them into a disposition 
for peace. 

Marion often spoke of this part of the war, as of a 
transaction which he remembered with sorrow. "We 
arrived, said he, in a letter to a friend," at the Indian 
towns in the month of July. As the lands were rich 
and the season had been favourable, the corn was 
bending under the double weight of lusty roasting 
rars and pods of clustering beans. The furrows 
seemed to rejoice under their precious loads — the 
fields stood thick with bread. We encamped the first 
night in the woods, near the fields, where the whoU 
army feasted on the young corn, which, with fat ve- 
nison, made a most delicious treat. 

*' The next morning we proceeded by order of colo- 
nel Cirant, to burn down the Indian cabins. Some of 
our men seemed to enjoy this cruel work, laugliing 
very beartiiv at the curling flames, as ihey mouniccl 
ioud crackling over the tops of the huts. But to in<r 
It ajipeared a shocking sight. Poor creatures ! thouvjlit 
I, we surely need not grudge you such iniscrahlt- 
habitations, but when we came, according ;o ordvnt^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MAUION. 25 

to cut down the fields of com, I could scarcely refrain 
from tears. For who could see the stalks that stood so 
stately with broad green leaves and gaily tasseled 
shocks, filled with sweet milky fluid and flour, the 
staff of life ; who, I say, without grief, could sec 
these sacred plants sinking under our swords with 
all their precious load, to wither and rot untasted in 
their mourning fields ? 

"I saw every where around the footsteps of the 
little Indian children, where they had lately played 
mder the shade of their rustling com. No doulit they 
had often looked up with joy to the swelling shocks, 
and gladdened when they thought of their abundant 
cakes for the coming winter. \^Tien we are gone, 
thought I, they will return, and peeping through the 
weeds with tearful eyes, will mark the ghastly ruin 
poured over their homes and happy fields, where thej 
had so often played 

" ' IV/iy did thia?"^ they will ask their mothers. 

"' T/: white people did it;"* the mothers reply 
' the christians did it P 

" Thus for cursed Mammon"*s sake, the followers 
of Christ have sown the hellish tares of hatred in the 
bosoms even of pagan children." 

The reader will, however, with pleasure remember 
that these were the dark deeds chiefly of a kingly 
government. A gloomy monarch, three thousand 
miles distant, and rolling in all the pomps and plea- 
suies of three millions of dollars per annum, could 
hardly be supposed to know what was passing in the 
American wilds ; but Washington had known. With 
bleeding heart he had often beheld the red and white 
men mingling in bloody fight. The horuors of the 
cruel strife djrelt upon his troubled thoughts ; and 
soon as God gave him power, (as president of in- 
dependent America,) he immediately adopted that 
better system which he had learnt from the gospel, 
Hia successors, Adams, Jefiferson, ftfid Madisoo^ 



26 THE LIFE OF 

have piously pursued his plan. In place of the toma- 
hawk, the plough-share is sent to the poor Indians — • 
goods are furnished them at first cost — ^letters and 
morals are taught among their tribes — and the soul 
of humanity is rejoiced to see the red and white men 
meet together like brothers. 

By this god-like policy, the United States hav« 
not only saved an immensity of blood and treasure, 
but are rapidly adding to the population and strength 
of the country. 

Now to return to Marion's letter. — ^'^ After burn- 
ing twenty towns, and destroying thousands of corn- 
fields,* the army returned to Koewee, where the 
Little Carpenter y a Cherokee chief, met colonel Grant 
and concluded a peace." The troops were then dis- 
banded: and Marion returned to his plantation in 
St. John's parish, where, with a few well-fed slaves, 
he continued to till his parental acres, occasionally 
amusing himself with his gun and fishing rod, of 
which he was always very fond. 

*" To this day the Indiana cannot bear the name of colonel Grant \ 
and whenever they see a droT« of horses destroying a corU'^ld, tliey 
cull out " Grant ! Grant !" 



OEN. FRANCIS MARION. 27 

CHAPTER III. 

^ar between England and America-^Marton up 
po'.nted a captain in the Second South Carolina^ 
regiment — £i'oes with the author on the recruiting 
service — curious anecdote of lieut. Charnock and 
captain Johnson — some melancholy and memorable 
relations. 

MARION continued to tread the peaceful and 

Sleasant walks of life, as above, till the beginning of 
lay, 1775, when, by a vessel direct from Boston, 
news was brought of the gallant battle of Lexington. 
Instantly the whole town and country were in a fiame 
for war, and the legislature being purposely convened, 
hastened to meet the wishes of the people, who were 
clamorous for raising two regiments for the service. 
On balloting for officers, Marion's ticket came oat 
for a captaincy in the second regiment, under com- 
mand of the brave William Moultrie. In a little time 
my name whs called out as a captain also, in the same 
regiment with Marion. This to me, was matter of 
ffreat joy, as 1 had long courted the friendship of 
Marion. For though he was neither handsome, nor 
witty, nor wealthy, yet he was universally beloved. 
The fairness of his character — his fondness for his 
relations — his humanity to his slaves — and his 
bravery in the Indian war, had made him the darling 
of the country. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at^ 
that I should have taken such a liking to Marion, but 
why he should have conceived such a partiality for 
me, that's the question. But it is no business of 
mine to solve it. However, very certain it is, that 
on the first moment of our acquaintance, there was 
somei^ing in his eyes and looks towards me which 
led me to think there must be truth in the old say- 
ing of " people's falling in love at first sight." And 
when it is considered, that strong attachments gene^ 
C2 



38 THE LIFE OF 

rally spring from congenialities, I must confess, that 
the warm and constant friendship of Marion has evei 
appeared to me exceedingly flattering. 

But to return to my narrative. — Our commissions 
as captains, were soon made out and signed by the 
council of safety, the 21st of June, 1775. As we were 
a couple of flaming patriots, we could not bear to be 
idle a single moment — marching, fighting, killing, 
and taking prisoners, was all that we could think or 
talk of. But as all this fine sport could not be car- 
ried on without men, nor men to be had without re- 
cruiting; recruiting, of course, appeared to be the 
first act and prologue of our play. 

" But what shall we do for money, captain Ma- 
rion ?" said I. 

" Why,'* replied he, " we must get it from the as- 
sembly." 

The assembly was accordingly applied to, but alas ! 
" could not help us to a single dollar !" 

I wonder whether posterity will ever muster faitb 
to believe that the gray heads of South Carolina, 
without a penny in pocket, ventured to war with 
Great Britain, the nation of the longest purse in Eu- 
rope ? Surely it was of him who pitied young David 
with his maiden sling and pebbles against the giant 
Goliah. 

But though the poverty of the legislature was 
enough to have thrown a damp on spirits of ordinarj 
heat, yet to a flaming zeal like ours, it only served as 
water on a fiery furnace, to make it blaze the fiercer. 

" Why truly, Horry I" said Marion, " this looks 
unpromising, but we must not mind it my hero. I'll 
tell you what — if the assembly can't help us, we 
must e'en help ourselves ! So come let us try what 
we can do on our own credit." 

" With all my heart," I replied. 

So away went we to borrow money ©f our friends 
in Charleston j I mean hard money. And hard 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2d 

monej it was indeed. The gold and silver all ap- 
peared as if it had caught the instinct of water- 
witches, diving at the first flash of the war, to the 
bottom of misers' trunks and strong boxes. For two 
whole days, and with every effort we could make, 
we collected but the pitiful sum of one hundred dol- 
lars ! However, fully resolved that nothing should 
atop us, we got our regimentals the next morning 
from the tailor's, and having crammed our saddle- 
bags with some clean shirts, a stout luncheon of 
bread and cheese, and a bottle of brandy, we mount- 
ed, and with hearts light as young lovers on a court- 
ing scheme, we dashed off to recruit our companies. 
Our course was towards Georgetown, Black River, 
ixnd Great Pedee. Fortune seemed to smile on our 
enterprise ; for by the time we reached Pedee, w« 
ad enlisted thirty-seven men, proper tall fellows, to 
whom we gave furloughs of two days to settle their 
affairs, and meet us at the house of a Mr. Bass, ta- 
vern-keeper, with whom we lodged. I should have 
told the reader, that we had with us, a very spirited 
young fellow by the name of Charnock, who was my 
lieutenant. 

On the second day, a captain Johnson of the militia, 
came to Bass's, and took lieutenant Charnock aside, 
and after prattling a great deal to him about the 
" cursed hardship," as he was pleased to call it, " of 
kidnapping poor clodhoppers at this rate," he very 
cavalierly offered him a guinea for himself, and a half 
joe a-piece for Marion and me to let the recruits go. 
Never did a poor silly puppy more completely take 
"ihe wrong sow by the ear, than did Mr. captain John- 
»ion, in thus tampering with lieutenant Charnock. For 
Charnock, though remarkably good natured and po- 
ite among men of honour, could not bear the least 
Approach of any thing that looked like rascality. Im- 
jnediately, therefore, oil hearing this infamous pro- 
position, he brought Johnson into the dining room 



30 THE LIFE OF 

where Marion and myself were sitting, and, in his 
presence, told us the whole affair. 

Oh that my young countrymen could all have been 
there, that they might have seen what a pale, trem- 
bling, pitiful figure a detected rascal makes ! I am 
sure they could never have lost that blessed mo- 
ment's impression in favour of truth and honour. 

After much swallowing, Johnson, however, at last, 
got the better of his conscience, and came on with a 
stout denial of the fact. Whereupon Charnock, 
enatching a paii of pistols, ordered him to take one 
and fight him on the spot. This being refused, the 
furious lieutenant instantly fell upon him with a cane. 
Sensible tliat Johnson had very richly deserved this 
ignominious chastisement, we gave him up to Char- 
nock, who thrashed him very soundly, until, faljlng 
on his knees, he roared out for quarter. Charnock 
then ordered him to be gone, but with the severest 
threats in case the recruits were not forthcoming ai 
the appointed time. 

On the morrow they came, and " let the cat out of 
the bag." It appeared then, that that most worthless 
fellow, Johnson, had told the poor simple recruits 
such dreadful stories about the war, that in their 
fright they had offered him all their cows and calves 
to get them off ! 

Our success in the recruiting business far exceed- 
ed our expectations, for in a very short time we made 
up our full complement of sixty men each. I have 
often lamented it as a most serious misfortune that 
we did not enlist for the v/ar. I am certain we could 
as easily have enlisted for the war as for six months. 
We should then have had a host of veterans, masters 
of their dreadful art, inured to hardships, scornful 
of danger, and coippletely able to purge our country 
of her cruel invaders. 

Asa place of greater security from the enemy's 
vessels, Dorchester had been pitched on as a deposite 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 31 

for ammunition and military stores, and put under a 
g^ard of militia. But fearing that the tories might 
rise upon this slender force and take away our pow- 
der, an article, at that time, of incalculable value, the 
council of safety advised to add a company of regu- 
lars, under some brave and vigilant officer. Marion 
had the honour to be nominated to the command, 
and, on the 19th of November, 1775, marched to the 
post, where he continued, undisturbed by the tories, 
until Christmas, when he was ordered down to 
Charleston to put fort Johnson in a state of defence. 

About this time an affair happened in Charleston, 
which filled with horror all who witnessed it. Cap- 
tain Fuller, of the second regiment, a gentleman in 
other respects very amiable and exemplary, gave 
himself up to hard drinking, and to such an excess as 
brought on an inflammation in the brain. In this fran- 
tic state, with wild rolling eyes, and a face shockingly 
oloated and red, he would behave for all the world 
as if he were leading his men into action. " Come 
on, my brave fellows," he would cry, " now be cool and 
steady — reserve your fire till I say the word — now 
give it to them, my heroes — hurra, they run, they 
run. I thank you, my lads, for your gallantry in 
your country's cause." 

All this time the sweat would roll in torrents 
down his cheeks. Then, quite exhausted, he would 
fall on his knees, and with clasped hands, and eyes 
lifted to heaven, would pronounce the Lord's Prayer 
and the creed in the most moving manner. For 
several days the soldiers gathered around him while 
thus employed : and often with tears in their eyes, 
would observe the total ruin which intemperance had 
brought upon this once elegant young gentleman.- - 
His friends in the country, hearing of his deplora- 
ble condition, came and took him home, where death 
soon put an end to all his miseries. 

In a short time after this, our regiment was dc- 



33 THE LIFE OF 

priveJ of another very genteel young officer, 1' 
tenant Perrineau; who also fell an early sacrifice t • 
tha' most shameful and detestable practice of morn- 
ing slings and mid-day draughts of strong grog. 

After these two tragedies, the reader wi'.l not, I 
hope, be displeased with the following far.e, which 
was acted in fort Jolmson, while Marion \/as repair- 
ing it, in January, 1776. The principal actors in it, 
v.'ere captain Marion, and a young lieutenant, whose 
name, delicacy, yet a while, bids me suppress. This 
officer, though in his person as handsome as Absalom, 
or the blooming Adonis, was as destitute of soul as 
a monkey. He appeared to have no idea above that 
of dress and diversion: and provided he could but 
compass his own little pitiful ends, which were al» 
ways of the sensual sort, he cared not how shame- 
fully he prevaricated and lied , but would wink, and 
grin, and chuckle, as if he haa done some great 
thing. He had served under a score of captains, 
who had all spoken of him as a slippery, worth- 
less fellow, whom they knew not what to do with. 
But though most heartily despised, the fool had the 
vanity to think himself amazingly clever ; and ac- 
tually boasted to me one day, that he would soon let 
me see how far he was over my famous captain Ma- 
rion's speed. Presently he hears thai there is to be, 
next week, a great cock-fight at Dorchester. Instant- 
ly his childish spirits are all on a fever to see the 
cock-fight. " Oh heavens ! he would not miss the 
cock-fight for the world !" But how to obtain leave of 
absence from the fort at this busy time, was the rub ; 
however, for such means as he was capable of using, 
an invention like his could not long be at a loss. In 
short, he went to Marion, with a doleful face, and in 
piteous accents, stated that his father, an excellent 
old man as ever son was blessed with, was at his last 
gasp, and only wanted to see him before he died. 

The generous Marion, not suspecting that su 



GKN. FRAirCIS MARION. S3 

goodly an outside could cover such falsehood, did 
not wait to hear the coming petition, but instantly 
granted his wish, unheard — '^ To be sure, lieutenant, 
go, by all means, go and wait upon your father ; but 
»'eturii as soon as possible, for you see how much we 
have to do." 

The lieutenant affected to be quite overcome with 
Marion's generosity, and swore he would be back in 
two days, or at farthest in three. As he stepped 
along by me, he thrust his tongue into his cheek, and 
looked prodigiously arch, as if he had achieved a 
grand exploit. 

As soon as he was gone, I told Marion I suspect- 
ed it was all a trick. And so it turned out; for in- 
stead of hurrying off, as he had pretended, to see hi a 
dying father, he slipt over to Charleston, where, for 
fear of being seen by any of our officers, he skulked 
about in the lower lanes and alleys until it was time 
to go up to the cock-fight at Dorchester. 

At length after a fortnight's absence, he came over 
to the fort, and entering the marquee, where Marion 
was sitting with his officers, he began to bow and 
scrape. As if not perceiving him, Marion turned 
his head another way. The lieutenant then, exceed- 
ingly embarrassed, came out with his apology, — '''' I 
Am sorr)% sir, to have outstayed my time so long ; 
but — b?it I could not help it — but now I am returned 
to do my duty." 

Marion turned very quickly upon him, r.nd with 
a most mortifying neglect, said, *' Aye, lieutenant, 
is that you I well, never mind it — there is no harm 
done — I never missed you." 

The poor lieutenant was so complete!}* cut up, thai 
he could not say a word, but sneaked ofT, hanging 
down his head, and looked much more like a detect- 
ed swindler than a gentleman soldier. 

The officers, who were p11 prodigiously pleased 
with his confusion, pre?\jntly went out arul began to 



54 THE LIFE OF 

rally him — ''^ Ah, ha, lieutenant, and so the captain 
has given you a set down." 

" A set down," replied he very angrily, " a sei 
down, do you call it ! I had rather a thousand time* 
he had knocked me down — an ugly, cross, knock 
kneed, hook-nosed son of a b-t-h !" 

The officers almost split their sides with laughing. 
The story soon took wind ; and the poor lieutenant 
did not hear the last of it for many a day. I have 
often heard him say that nothing ever so completely 
confounded him, as did that dry, cutting speech of 
Marion. 

" I was never at a loss before," said he, "to ma 
nage all other officers that were ever set over me 
As for our colonel, (meaning Moultrie) he is a fine 
honest, good-natured old buck. But I can wind hiir 
round my finger like a pack-thread. But as for the 
stern, keen-eyed Marion, I dread him." 

The truth is, Marion wished his officers to be gen 
tlemen. And whenever he saw one of them acting 
below that character, he would generously attempt 
his reformation. And few men, perhaps, ever knew 
better how to manage truants from duty. 

To a coarse, conceited chap, like our lieutenant 
Marion gave no quarter, but checked him at once 
but still in a way that was quite gentlemanly, and 
calculated to overawe. He kept him at arms' length — 
took no freedoms with him — nor allowed any — and 
when visited on business, he would receive and treat 
him with a formality sufficient to let him see that al) 
was not right. 

The effect of such management evinced the cor- 
rectness of Marion's judgment. The young lieute 
iiant became remarkably polite, and also attentive tc 
duty. In short, no subaltern behaved better. And 
this very happy change in his mavxners^ was soon 
succeeded by as pleasing a change in tha sentiments 
£>f all around him. The officers of the regiment grew 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 35 

fond of him — Marion spoke of him with pleasure, as 
an excellent soldier — and he of Marion, as his best 
friend. 

This is sufficient to show the truth of the remark 
madie by Aristotle — "that there is no art so difficult 
and j;;odlike as that of managing men to their own 
happiness and glory." 



CHAPTER IV. 



The clouds of danger darker and darker — two addi" 
tional regimtrntfi raised — Marion fu-omoted to a ma- 
jority — -fort Moultrie huilt — A British fleet and ar- 
my invade Carolina — grand preparations to receive 
them — admirable patriotism of the Charleston ladies 
— heavy at ttu k on fort Moultrie — glorious defence 
of the garrison, 

THE cloud of war growing still darker and darker 
evfr\' i\9y^ the council of safety determined to raise 
a regiment of artillery, and another of in fan cry. In 
consequence of th»s, several of the officers of the 
former regiments were promoted. Among these was 
my friend Marion, who from the rank of captain, was 
raided to a majority. His field of duties became, of 
course, much more wide and difficult, but he seemed 
to come forward to the discharge of them with the 
familiarity and alertnt*ss of one who. as general 
Moultrie used to say, was born a soldier. In fact, he 
a)">peared never so happy, never so completely in his 
element, as when he had his officers and men out on 
parade at close training. And for cleanliness of per- 
son, neatness of dress, and gentlemanly manners, 
with celerity and exactness :n perform.ing their evo- 
lutions, they soon became the admiration and praise 
both of citizens and soldiers. And indeed 1 am not 
D 



;J6 THE LIFE OF 

afraid to say that Marion was the architect of the 
second regiment, and hiid the foundation of that ex- 
cellent discipline and confidence in themselves, which 
gained them such reputation whenever they were 
brought to face their enemies. 

In March, 1776, I was sent over with my com- 
pany, to Sullivan's island, to prevent the landing of 
the British from the men of war, the Cherokee and 
Tamar, then lying in Rebellion road. I had not been 
long on that station, before col. Moultrie came over 
with his whole regiment to erect a fort on the island. 

The truth is, the governor had of late become con- 
foundedly afraid of a visit from the British. The 
great wealth in Charleston must, he thought, by this 
time, have set their honest fingers to itching — and 
he also suspected that they could hardly be ignorant 
what a number of poor deluded gentlemen, called 
tories, we had among us. 

The arrival of colonel Moultrie, with the second 
regiment, afforded me infinite satisfaction. It broughc 
me once more to act in concert with Marion. 'Tis 
true, he had got one grade above me in the line of 
preferment ; but, thank God, I never minded that. ] 
loved Marion, and " love^"* as every body knows 
** envuth not^^ We met like brothers. I read in hi? 
looks the smiling evidence of his love towards me 
and I felt the strongest wish to perpetuate his par- 
tiality. Friendship was gay within my heart, and 
thenceforth all nature xvithout put on her lovelies* 
aspects. The island of sand no longer seemed 2 
dreary waste. Brighter rolled the blue waves of 
ocean beneath the golden beam ; and sweeter mur- 
mured the billows on their sandy beach. My heart 
rejoiced with the playful fishes, as they leaped high 
wantoning in the air, or, with sudden flounce, return- 
ed again, wild darting through their lucid element. 
Our work went on in joy. The palmetto ti'ees were 
trought to us by the blacks, in lar^c rifts^ of which 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^ 

we constructed, for our fort, an immense pen, two 
hundred feet long, and sixteen feet wide, filled with 
sand to stop the shot. For our platforms, we had 
two-inch oak planks, nailed down with iron spikes. 
With glad hearts we then got up our carriag'-is and 
mounted our guns, of which twelve were 18 pound- 
ers — twelve 24''s, and tv/elvc French 36V>, equal to 
English 42h. 

A general joy waii spread over the faces of our regi- 
ment, as v/e looked along our battery of thimclerers. 

But our giorj'ing, under God, was chiefly in our 
two and forty pounders. And indeed their appear- 
ance was terrible, where they lay v/ith wide Cerbe- 
rean mouths, hideously gaping over the roaring 
waves, and threatening destruction to the foes of 
liberty. 

They were soon called to a trial of their metal. — 
For on the 31st of May, while we were all busily 
driving on with our fort, suddenly a cry was heard, 
" a ftct 1 ajleet.^ ho T"* Looking out to sea, we all at 
once beheld, as it were, a wilderness of ships, hang- 
ing, like snow-white clouds from the north-east sky. 
It was the sirs Parker and Clinton, hastening on with 
nine ships of war and thirty transports, bearing three 
thousand land forces, to attack Charleston. 

Such an armament was an awful novelty, that pro- 
duced on us all a momentary flutter ; but, thank God, 
no serious fear. On the contrary, it was very visi- 
ble in every glowing cheek and sparkling eye, as we 
looked, laughing'^ on one another, that we considered 
the approaching conflict as a grand trial of courage, 
which we rather desired than dreaded. And to their 
equal praise, our gallant countrymen in Charleston, 
as we learned daily, by the boats, were all in f.ne 
spirits, and constantly making their best preparations 
to receive the enemy. And still my pen trembles in 
my hand j even after this long lapse of time, it trem- 
bles with wonder and delight, to tell of that immor • 



iB THE LIFE OF 

tat fire, which in those perilous days, glowed in the 
bosoms of the Charleston fair. Instead of gloomy 
sadness and tears, for the dark cloud that threatened 
their city, they wore the most enlivening looks—* 
constantly talked the boldest language of patriotism 
•—animated their husbands, brothers, and lovers to 
fight bravely — and, for themselves, they vowed they 
would ^'' ?icvcr live the alavt's of Brit a in. ^^ Some peo' 
pie in our days, may not beliexe me, when I add of 
these noble ladies, that they actually begged leave of 
their conimandant, to let them ''*'Ji,§'ht hij the sides of 
their rehtives aiidfriejidsy This, though a glorious 
request, was absolutely refused them. For who 
could bear to see the sweet face of beauty rough- 
ened over with the hard frowns of war ; or, the war- 
riors musket, on those tender bosoms, formed of 
heaven only to pillow up the cheeks of happy hus- 
bands, and of smiling babes? 

But though the spirits of the ladies were willing, 
their nerves were weak; for when the British ships 
of war hove in sight, opposite to the town, they all 
went dowii to the shore to view them. And then 
strong fear, like the cold wind of autumn, struck their 
tender frames with trembling, and bleached their 
rosy cheeks. Some, indeed, of the younger sort, af- 
fected to laugh and boast; but the generality re- 
ttirned silent and pensive, as from a funeral, hanging 
their lovely heads, like rows of sickly jonquils, when 
the sun has forsaken the gardens, and faded nature 
mourns his departed beams. Sisters were often seen 
to turn pale and sigh, when they looked on their 
youthful brothers, while tender mothers, looking 
down on their infant cherubs at the breast, let drop 
their pearly sorrows, and exclaimed, ** happy the 
wombs that bear not, ana the paps t/iat j^ive ?io sitci,^^ 
In consequence of a most extraordinary continuation 
of calms, baffling winds, and neap tides, the enemy's 
ships never got within our bar till the 2rth of June : 



GEN. FRANCIS MAHiON. 39 

And on the Ibllowing morn, the memorable 28th, they 
weighed anchor on the young flood, and before a fine, 
breeze, w'th top gallant sails, royals, and sky scraper? 
all drawing, came bearing uj^ for the fort like floating 
mountains. 

The anxious reader must not suppose that we were 
standing all this while, with fmger in mouth, idly 
gaping like children on a raree show. No, by the 
Living ! but, fast as they neared us, we still kept our 
thunders close bearing'upon them, like infernal point- 
ers at a dead set ; and as soon as they were come 
within point blank shot, we clapped our matches and 
gave them a tornado of round and double-headed 
bullets, which made many a poor KnglishmaA^s head 
ache. Nor were they long in our debt, hut letting 
go their anchors and clewing up their sails, which 
the} did in a trice, they opened all their batteries, and 
broke loose upon us with a roar as if heaven and 
earth had been coming together. 

Such a sudden burst of flame and thunder, could 
not but make us feel very queer at first, especially as 
we were young hands, and had never been engaged 
in such an awful scene before. But a few rounds 
presently brought us all to rights again, and then, 
with heads bound up, and stripped to the buff, wt 
plied our bull-dogs like heroes. 

The British outnumbered us in men and guns, a\ 
least three to one, but then our guns, some of them 
at least, wavt much the licavict>t, carrying balls of 
two and forty pounds weight ! and when the mon- 
sters, crammed to the throat with chained shot and 
infernal fire, If:t out, it was with such hideous pealr^ 
. made both earth and ocean tremble. At one time 
;t appeared as though, by a strange kind of accident, 
.dl their broad-sides had struck us at once, which 
made the fort tremble again. But our palmettoes 
stood the fire to a min'cle, closed up without sig-n of 
splinter, on iKeir shot, which was stopped by the in- 
D2 



40 THE LIFE OF 

termediate sand ; while, on the other hand, every 
bullet that we fired, went through and through their 
ships, smashing alike sailors, timber-heads, and iron 
anchors, in their furious course. And thus was the 
order of our battle — there, a line of seven tall ships ; 
and here, one little, solitary fort — there, British dis- 
cipline ; and here, American enthusiasm — there, 
brave men fighting for a tyrant ; and here, heroes 
contending for liberty. I am old now, and have for- 
gotten many things, but never shall I forget the 
heart-burnings of that day, when I heard the blast of 
those rude cannon, that bade me be a slave ; and still 
my aged bosom swells with the big joy when I hear, 
which I often do in fancy's ear, the answer of our 
faithful bull-dogs, as with deafening roar, lurid flame 
and smoke, they hurled back their iron curses on the 
wicked claim. But alas ! for lack of ammunition, our 
opening victory was soon nipped like a luckles<i. 
flower, in the bud : for the contest had hardly laslud 
an hour, before our powder was so expended that we 
were obliged, in a great measure, to silence our guns, 
which was matter of infinite mortification to us, both 
because of the grief it gave our friends, and the high 
triumph it afforded our enemies. ^^ Powder I Po-wderl 
mUlions for poxvderP'* was our constant cry. Oh .' 
had we but had plenty of that noisij kUUseed^ as the 
Scotchmen call it, not one of those tall ships would 
ever have revisited Neptune's green dominion. They 
must inevitably ha.ve struck, or laid their vast hulks 
along-side the fort, as hurdles for the snail-loving 
shee/j's heads. Indeed, small as our stock of ammu- 
nition was, we made several of their ships look like 
selves, and smell like slaughter pens. The commo- 
c^ore's ship, the Bristol, had fifty men killed, and up- 
wards of one hundred wounded ! 

The lav:**els of the second regiment can never fade 
— the destructive eflcct of their fire gave glorious 
proof, that they loaded and levelled their pieces lik« 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 41 

men who wished every shot to tell. They all fought 
like veterans ; but the behaviour of some was gal- 
lant beyond compare ; and the humble names of Jas- 
per and M''Donald shall be remembered, when those 
of proud kings shall be forgotten. 

A ball from the enemy's ships carried away our 
flag-staff. Scarcely had the stars of liberty touched 
the sand, before Jasper flew and snatched them up 
and kissed them with great enthusiasm. Then 
having fixed them to the point of his spontoon, he 
leaped up on the breast-work amidst the storm and 
fury of the battle, and restored them to their daring 
station — waving his hat at the same tjme and huzza, 
ing, ^^God save liberty and my country for ever P"* 

As to sergeant M'Donald, while fighting like a 
hero, at his gun, a cannon ball came in at the port- 
hole, and mangled him miserably. As he was borne, 
off, he lifted his dying eyes, and said to his comrades, 
" Hiizza^ my brave fellows^ I die^ but donH let the cause 
of liberty die xvith me?'' 

The effect of our last gun, and which happened to 
be fired by Marion, is too remarkable to be lost. It 
was his lot that day to command the left wing of the 
fort, where many of our heaviest cannon were plant- 
ed. As from lack of posvder, we were obliged to 
fire very slow, Marion would often level the guns 
himself. And now comes my story. — Just after sun- 
set the enemy's ships ceased firing, and slipping their 
cables, began to move off. Pleased with the event, 
an officer on the quarter deck of the Bristol man of 
war, called out to his comrade, " Well^ d — n my eyes^ 
Fra7ik^ the play is over I so Iet\'> ^o bdoxv and hob noh 
to a ^'lass ofxvine^ for I am devilish dry /" 

" With all my hearty Jack;'''' replied the other; so 
down they whipped into the cabin, where the v/inc 
and glasses had been standing all day on the table. 
At that moment, one of our two and forty pounders 
being just loaded, Marion called to colonel jloultrie, 



A2 THE LIFE OF 

and asked him if it would not be well enough to givc^ 
them the la&t blow, " ^<?*," replied Moultrie, " give 
the7n the parting kick.'''' 

Marion clapped the match, and away, in thunder 
and lightning went the ball, which, entering the cabin 
windows, shattered the two young friends : thence 
raging through the bulk-heads and steerage, it shiver- 
ed three sailors on the main deck, and, after all, 
bursting through the forecastle into the sea, sunk 
with sullen joy to the bottom. 

We got this story from five British seamen, who 
ran off with the Bristol's long boat, and came and 
joined us that very night. 

The next day, that noble whig, Mr. William Logan, 
sent us a couple of fat beeves and a hogshead of rum, 
'* to refresh us^"* as he was pleased to say, " after our 
hard day's workP And on the second day after the 
action, the governor and council, with numlDcrs of the 
gi-eat ladies and gentlemen of Charleston, came over 
to the fort to visit us. We all puc on our " best bibs 
and tuckers^'' and paraded at the water's edge to re- 
ceive them, vv-hich we did with a spanking feu dejoi^ 
and were not a little gratified v/ith their attentions 
and handsome compliments paid us, for what they 
politely termed " our gallant defence of our country. ^^ 
And indeed to see the looks of our poor soldiers, 
when those great ladies, all glittering in silks and 
jeweh, and powdered and perfumed so nice, would 
come up to them, in faces like angels, spaikling and 
smiling so sweet, as if they would kiss them j I say, 
to see the looks of our poor fellows, their awkrvard , 
bozvs and broad grins, and other droll capers they cut 
no human being could have refrained from laughing 

Presently that excellent lady, Mrs. Colonel EHtot 
(of the artillery,) came forward and presented us with 
a most superb pair of colours, embroidered with gold 
and silver by her ovi'-n lilv-white hands. 

They were delivered, if I mistake not, to the bryvc 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION 43 

sergeant Jasper, who smiled when he took them, and 
vowed he '''"would never give them up but with his 
lifer 

Poor fellow I he too soon made good his promise, 
near the fatal walls of Savannah. 

But it was not the ladies alone that were attentive 
to us, for that great man, governor Rutledge, in pre- 
sence of the regiment, took the sword from his side, 
and with his own noble hand presented it to sergeant 
Jasper, He also offered him a commission on the 
spot J but this, Jasper absolutely refused. " I am 
greatly obliged to you, governor,'* said he, " but I 
had rather not have a commission. As I am, I pass 
very well with such company as a poor sergeant has 
any right to keep. If I were to get a commission, I 
should be forced to keep higher company: and then, 
as I don't kno*/ how to read, I should only be throw- 
ing mysjlf in a way to be laughed at !" Parents, 
who can waste on grog and tobacco, that precious 
money you ought to educate your children with, 
think of this ! 



i4 THE LIFE OF 



CHAPTER V. 

Oovtfrrior Rutlcd^e haran^'ut's the troops — shoxus Br\ 
taints injustice to have been the cause of the Amr.r} 
can xvar — independence declared — great joy on that 
account. 

ON the 20th of September, 1776, all the troops it, 
Charleston were ordered to rendezvous without the 
gates of the city, to hear, as we were told, '^ Some 
great news." Soon as we were paraded, governor 
Rutledge ascended a stage, and in the forcible man~ 
ner of a Demosthenes, informed, that Congress had 
dissolved all relation with England, by an open De- 
claration of Independence. 

" You are, no doubt, gentlemen," said he, '' sur- 
prised, and perhaps shocked at this intelligence. But 
however painful this measure may be to our feelings, 
it is absolutely necessary to our safety. 

" Under the sacred name of ' mother country,' 
England has long been working our ruin. I need not 
tell you that our fathers were Britons, who for liber- 
ty's sake, came and settled in this country, then a 
howling wilderness. For a long time they ate their 
bread, not only embittered with sweat, but often stain- 
ed with blood — their own and the blood of their chil- 
dren, fighting the savages for a dwelling place. At 
length they prevailed and found a rest. But still their 
hearts were towards the place of their nativity ; and 
often with tears, did they think and talk of the white- 
clifted island where their fathers dwelt. Dying, they 
bequeathed to us the same tender sentiments, which 
we cherished wkh a pious care. The name of Eng- 
land was a pleasant sound in our ears — the sight of 
their ships was always wont to fill our hearts with joy 
We hasted to greet the beloved strangers ; and hur- 
r)'ing them to our habitations, spread for them our 



GEN. FKANCIS MARION. 45 

^♦'asl, and rejoiced as men do in the society of their 
dearest friends. 

" Oh ! had our mother country but treated us with 
equal affection — as a tender parent, had she but 
smiled on our valour — encouraged our industry — 
and thus exalted the horn of our glory, our union 
and brotherly love would have been eternal ; and the 
impious name of independence had never been heard ! 
But, alas ! instead or treating us in this endearing 
spirit, she cruelly limited our commerce — compelled 
as to buy and sell to her alone, and at her own 
prices — and not content with the enormous profits of 
Buch a shameful traffic, she has come, at length, to 
claim a r'li^ht to tax itfi at pleasure. 

" But, my countrymen, will you suffer thus rudely 
to be wrested from you, that goodly inheritance oi 
Lin'^TRTY, which was bequeathed to you by your gal- 
lant fathers ? Will you thus tamely suffer to be frus- 
trated all the glorious designs of God towards you 
and your children ? For look but around on this great 
/«r!^/, which he has given you, and yon bright heavens, 
which he has spread over your favoured heads, and 
say whether he ever intended those mighty scenes to 
be the prison-house of slaves ? — the trembling slaves 
of a small island beyond the sea? — hewers of wood 
and drawers of water, planters of rice 7.nd pickers oi 
cotton, for a foreign tyrant and his minions ? No, m\ 
friends, God never intended you for such dishonour- — 
and can you be so v/icked as to bring it on your- 
selves ? I trust you will not. Nay, the voices of 
your brave countrymen in Congress, have said you 
unllnot^2LX\d anticipating your heroic sentiments, have 
already declared you a " free and independent 
PEOPLE !" 

I " And now my gallant friends, are you willing to 

I *;onfirm their glorious deed ? Are you willing this 

day, in the sight of heaven, to swear allegiance to the 

sovereignty of your country, and to place her in the 



4^6 ^'^ THE LIFE OF 

highest rank of nations, by proclaiming her inde- 
pendent?" 

In a moment the air resounded with " Tes f 
independence J independence for ever ! God save the 
independent states of America /'" 

The oath of allegiance was then tendered to the 
troops. 1'he officers with great alacrity took \t first: 
which highly pleased the common soldiers, who rea- 
dily followed their patriotic example. Soon as the 
solemn rite was performed, the governor onlered a 
fe^t dejoie. Instantly at the welcome word, ^^ handle 
7r?ns,^^ the eager warriors struck their fire-locks, 
loud ringing through all their ranks ; and presenting 
their pieces, rent the air with fierce platoons ; while 
the deep throated cannon like surly bull-doQ;s, rolled 
their louder thunders along the field ; then madly 
bounding back on their rattling wheels, they told to 
fanci(''s eat y ''^ Freedotns sons are zve^ and d— -n the 
viltuins that •*»' ^ uid make us slaves /" 



GEN. FRANCIS. MARION. 47 



CHAPTER VI. 

rvHts j^'roxoing squallif — the author sets out a vagrant 
huntmj^ — ^^^6' i?ito hot -water — narrowly escapes 
with n?s life — catches a host of vagabonds^ hut 
learns from experience^ that^ though a rascal may do 
to stop a bullet^ "'tis only the man of honour that can 
make a good soldier. 

" THE de-oil,'' said George Whltefielc}, " is fond 
of fshing in muddy waters'" — hence it Is, I suppose, 
that that grand demagogue has always been so fond 
of rear — that sunshine and baskifig time of rogues, 
which calls them out, thick as May-day sun calls out 
the rattle-snakes from their stony crannies. 

In times of peace, the waters are clear, so that if 
the smallest Jack (villain) but makes his appearance, 
eagle-eyed yw.sf ice*, with her iron talons, is down upon 
him in a moment. But let war but stir up the mud 
of confusion, and straightway the eyes of justice are 
blinded — thieves turn out in shoals : and devils, like 
hungry fishing-hawks, are seen by the eye offaith, 
hovering over the wretched fry, screaming for their 
prey. 

This was exactly the case in South Carolina. The 
war had hardly raged there above a twelvemonth and 
a day, before the state of society seemed turned up- 
side dovvm. The sacred plough was every where 
seen rusting in the weedy furrows — Grog shops and 
Nanny houses were springing up as thick as hops—' 
at the house of God you saw nobody — but if there 
was a devil's hous'i (a dram shop) hard by, you 
might be sure to see that crowded with poor Laza- 
rites, with red noses and black eyes, and the fences 
all strung along with starved tackles, in grape-vi*ie 
bridles and sheep-skin saddles. In short, the whole 
country was fast overrunning with vagabonds, like 
E 



48 THE LIFE OF 

ravening locusts, seeking where they might light, 
and whom tliey should devour. 

" Good heavens !" said Marion to me one day, and 
with great alarm in his looks, " what's to be done 
with these wretches, these vagrants ? I am actually 
afraid we shall be ruined by them presently. For 
you know, sir, that a vagrant is but the chrysalis or 
fly state of the gambler, the horse-thief, the mone\'- 
coiner, and indeed of every other worthless creature 
that disturbs and endangers society." 

** Why colonel," replied I, " there's a conceit in 
my head, which, if it could but be brought to bear, 
would, I think, soon settle the hash with these ras- 
cals." 

" Aye," replied he, '* well, pray give it to us, for I 
should be very fond to hear it." 

" WTiy sir," said I, " give me but a lieutenant, ser- 
geant, and corporal, with a dozen privates, all of my 
own choosing, do you see, and if I don't soon give 
you a good account of those villains, you may, with 
all my heart, give me a good suit of tar and fea- 
thers." 

My demand was instantly complied with. Then 
taking with me such men as I knevr I could depend 
on, among whom was the brave lieutenant Jossilin, I 
set out from the Long Bluff, towards Sandhills. The 
reader will please to take notice, that in our hurry we 
had not forgot to take with us a constable with a pro« 
per warrant. 

We had gone but a few miles, before we fell in 
with a squad of as choice game as heart could have 
wished, three proper tall youn^ vai^ahonds I profound- 
ly engaged at aJ! fours ^ in a log tippling shop, witli 
cards as black as their own dirty hands, and a tickler 
of brandy before them! and sex intent were the 
thieves on fleecing each other, that they took no 
manner of noticf. of us, but continued their scoun- 
drel work, eagerly stretched over the table, thwack- 



GEN. FRANCIS MAKtON 40 

ing down their cards with filthy knuckles, and at 
ivery stroke bawling out, " there's a good trkk /" 

" Thot's as good as he?'' 

*' And there's the best of the- three — huzza, d — n 
Die ! at him again my hearties." 

'■'■Lieutenant Jossilin^''^ said I, '■'■ grab the7n fellows.'''* 

You never saw poor devils in such a fright. But 
soon as they had recovered the use of their tongues, 
they swore like troopers that they were the " most 
honestest gentlemen in all Carolina^ 

" Aye ! well, I am very glad to hear that, gentle- 
men, said I, for I love honest men prodigiously, and 
hope the magistrate will confirm the handsome re- 
port you have made of yourselves." 

So off we set all together for the magistrate. About 
dinner time I ordered a halt at the house of one 
Johnson, a militia captain, who appeared quite over- 
whelmed with joy to see me. 

"• Heaven bless us !" said he, " and now who could 
have believed all this ? And have I, at last, to my 
heart's desire, the great honour of seeing under my 
humble roof the noble major Horry ?" 

I told him I was much obliged to him, for his po- 
liteness — but, for the present, was rather too hungry 
to relish compliments. " Like sweetmeats, captain," 
said I, " a little of them may do pretty well after u 
good dinner." 

" Oh, my dear major !" quoth he, " and how sorry 
I am now that I have nothing fit for dinner for you, 
/ny noble son of thunder — a saddle (A fat veniso?ij 
major ; or a brace of young ducks ; or, a gree)i goose 
with currant jelly, and a bottle of old Madeira to 
wash it down, do you see, major ! something nice for 
Kou, do you see, major !" 

" Nice^"* said I, '* captain Johnson • We soKlIera 
of liberty don't stand upon the nice — the substantial 
Ma all that we care for — a rasher of fat bacon from tlie 



50 THE LIFE OF 

coals, with a good stout lump of an ash cake, is ?i7ce 
enough for us." 

" Oh, my dear sir !" replied he, " now doii'ty doiHt 
be angry with me ; for I was only sorry that I have 
nothing half so good for ) ou as I could wish, but 
such as it is, thank God, we have plenty; and you\ 
shall have a hite in a trice." So oft' he went, as he | 
pretended, to hurry dinner. 

Now can any honest man believe that this same 
man, captain Johnson, who had been, as Paddy sayS; 
'' stickiui^ the blarnetj into me at that rate^'' could have 
been such a scoundrel as to turn about the very next 
minute, and try all in his power to trick me out of 
my vagrants. It is, however, too true to be doubt- 
ed ; for having purposely delayed dinner till it was 
iate, he then insisted that I must not deny him the 
^*' very great honour of jny companij that nights Soon 
as my consent was obtained, he despatched a parcel 
of riders, to order in, with their guns, as many of his 
ganc^ as he thought would do. In the course of the 
night, snug as master Johnson thought himself, I got 
a hint of his capers, and told my men to see that 
their guns were in prime order. 

While breakfast was getting ready, (for Johnson 
swore I should not leave him " on an empty stomach^"*^ 
lieutenant Jossilin came and told me he did not un- 
derstand the meaning of so many ill-looking fellows 
coming about the house witli tlieir guns in their 
hands. 

I replied that we should see presently. 

Breakfast then making its appearance, we sat down, 
and while we were eating, (our men all on parade at 
the door) Johnson's men kept dropping in one after 
another, till there were, I dare say, as many as thirty 
of them in the room, «// arfned. 

When breakfast was over, t turned to the consta- 
ble, and desired him to look to his charge^ meaning 
the three vagrants^ for that we would start as soon as 



GEN. FRANCIS MAlllON. 51 

our men were all refreshed. Upon this captain John- 
son said he believed he should not let the pri«soners go. 

" Not let them go, sir," said I, *' what do you mean 
by that, sir ?" 

" I mean, sir," replied he, " that the law is an op- 
pressive one." 

I asked him, still keeping myself perfectly cool, if 
he was not an American soldier ? 

"21?5, ^z/," he answered, "/ am an American sol- 
dier ; and as good a one, perhaps, as yourself, or any 
other man." 

" Well, sir, and is this the way you show your sol- 
diership, by insrlting the law ?" 

" I am not bound," continued he, " to obey a bad 
law." 

" But, sir, who gave ijou a right \.o judge the law ?" 

" I don't mind that," quoth he, *' but d — n me^ sir, 
'f I'll let the prisoners go." 

" Very well, captain Johnson," said I, " we shall 
soon try that; and if you and your people here, 
choose to go to the devil for resisting the lav/, on 
your own heads be the bloody conaequencts^'' 

With this I gave the floor a thundering stamp, and 
in a moment, as by magic, in bursted my brave ser- 
geant and men, with fixed bayonets, ready for slaugh- 
ter, while Jossilin and myself, whipping out our 
swords, rushed on as to the charge. 

A troop of red foxes dashing into a poultry yard, 
never produced such squalling and flying as now took 
place among these poor guilty wretches — " Lord have 
mercy upon us^"* they cried — down fell their guns — 
smack went the doors and windoxvs — and out of both; 
heels over head they tumbled, as expecting every mo- 
ment the points of our bayonets. The house was 
quickly cleared of every soul except Johnson and his 
lieutenant, one Lunda, who both trembled like aspen 
leaves, expecting a severe drubbing. 

" Captain Johnson," said I " don't tremble ; you 
E2 



52 THE LIFE OP 

have nothing to fear from me. A man who can act 
as you have done, is not an object of anger, but coti' 
tempt. Go ! and learn the spirit that becomes a gen- 
tleman and an American soldier." 

I should have observed, that as we advanced to 
charge Johnson's poltroons, one of the party, a reso- 
lute fellow, presented his gun to my breast and drew 
the trigger. Happily, in the very instant of its firing, 
lieutenant Jossilin knocked it up with his sword; and 
the ball grazing my shoulder, bursted through the 
side of the house. 

As we rode off, some of Johnson's fugitives had the 
audacity to bawl out, though from a very prudent dis- 
tance, threatening us that they would ]#et rescue the 
prisoners before wc got to the bluff. But they wisely 
took care rot to make good their word, for they were 
only a pack of poor ignorant tories, who did nothing 
on principle^ and were therefore ready to quit their 
purpose the .noment they saw danger in the way. 

Our success at vagrant hunting was marvellous. I 
hardly think we could, in the same time, have caught 
as many raccoons in any swamp on Pedee. On count- 
ing noses, we found, that in our three weeks' course, 
we had seized and sent off to Charleston, upwards 
of fifty. With the last haul, I returned myself to the 
city, where I received the thanks of general Howe, 
for " the handsoriie addition^'' as he was pleased to 
term it, " xvJnch I had made to the regiment?'* 

But on trial, it was fouiul that such vermin were 
not worthy of thanks, nor were an;/ addition to the 
regiment, except as disgust to the men and vexation 
to the officers. Destitute of honour, they performed 
their duty, not like soldiers, but slaves ; and, on every 
opportunity, would run off into the woods like wild 
beasts. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 53 

CHAPTER VII. 

The brave sergeant Jasper again on the carpet — in dis- 
guise vtsics a British post at Ebenszer — i7i companij 
of sergeant Newton^ makes a second trip thither — 
affecting v'^eiv of an American lady and her child^ 
-with other -whig prisoners at Ebenezer — desperate 
resohe of Jasper %id Newton^ to rescue them — theit 
bloodif conflict and glorious triuviph. 

IN the spring of 1779, Marion and myself were 
fjent with our comnxands, to Piirysburgh, to re-en- 
force general Lincoln, who was there on his way to 
ittack the British in Savannah, which a few months 
before had fallen into their hands. As the count 
D'Estang, who was expected to co-operate in this af- 
fair, had not yet arrived, general Lincoln thought it 
advisable to entrench and wait for him. 

While v/e were lying at Purysburgh, a. couple of 
y^oung men of our regiment achieved an act of gene- 
rosity and courage, which, in former days, would 
have laid the ground-work of a heroic romance. One 
of the actors in this extraordinary play was the brave 
sergeant Jasper, whose name will for ever be dear to 
the friends of American liberty. 

Jasper had a brother who had joined the British, 
and held the rank of sergeant in their garrison at 
Ebenezer. Never man was truer to his country than 
Jasper, yet was his heart so warm that he loved his 
brother, though a tory, and actually went over to see 
him. His brother was exceedingly alarmed at sight 
of him, lest he should be seized and hung up at once 
as a spy, for his name was well known to many of the 
British officers. But Jasper begged him not to give 
himself much trouble on that head, for, said he, " I am 
no longer an American soldier." 

" Well, thank God for that, William," replied his 
brother, giving him a hearty shake by the hand — 



5* thf: life of ; 

" and nozc, o?ily say the ivord^ my boy^ and here h a 
commisstop for you, xvith regimentals and gold to hoot, 
to Jight for his majesty.'''' 

Jasper shooV his head and observed, that though 
there was but little encouragement to fight yor his 
country, yet he could not fmd in his heart to fight 
against her. And there the conversation ended. 

After staying with his brother some two or three 
days, inspecting and hearing all that he could, he took 
his leave, and by a rctnid about, returned to camp, and 
told general Lincoln all that he had seen. 

Having wasted several weeks longer of tiresome 
idleness, and no news of the French fleet, Jasper look 
it into his head to make another trip to Ebenezer. 

On this occasion he did not, as before, go alone, 
but took with him his particular friend, sergeant 
Newton, son of an old Baptist preacher, and a yc>ung 
fellow, for strength and courage, just about a good 
match for Jasper himself. 

He was received as usual, with great cordiality by 
his brother, to whom he introduced his friend New- 
ton, and spent several days in the British fort, witli- 
out giving the least alarm. On the morning of the 
third day his brother had some bad nexus to tell hinu 

" Aye'l xvhat is it r"' he asked, " -what is it f-' 

" Why," replied his brother, " here are some ten or 
a dozen American prisoners, brought in this morning, 
as deserters from Savannah, whither they are to be 
sent immediately. And from what I can learn, it 
will be apt to go hard with them, for it seems they 
have all taken the king's bounty." 

'^ Lefs see ''em,^'' said Jasper, " lt't''s see ''em.'''' 

So his brother took him and Newton to see them. 
And indeed it was a mournful sight to behold them, 
where they sat, ])Oor fellows I all hand-cufied, bn the 
ground. But all pity of them was forgot, soon as 
the eye was turned to a far more doleful sight hard 
by, which was a young woman, wife of one of tru 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S5 

pi^soncrs, with her child, a sweet little boy of about 
five years old. The name of this lady was Jones. 
Her humble garb showed her to be poor, but her deep 
distress, and sympathy with her unfortunate hus- 
band, showed that she was rich in that pure conjugal 
love, that is more precious than all gold. 

She generally sat on the ground opposite to her 
husband, with her little boy leaning on her lap, and 
her coal black hair spreading in long neglected tresses 
on her neck and bosom. And thus in silence she sat, 
a statue of grief, sometimes with her eyes hard fixed 
upon the earth, like one lost in thought, sighing and 
groaning the while as if her heart would burst — then 
starting, as from a reverie, she would dart her eager 
eyes, red with weeping, on her husband's face, and 
there would gaze, with looks so piercing sad, as 
though she saw him struggling in the halter, herself 
a widow, and her son an orphan. Straight her frame 
would begin to shake with the rising agony, and her 
face to change and swell ; then with eyes swimming 
in tears, she would look around upon us all, for pity 
and for help, with cries sufficient to melt the heart 
of a demon. While the child seeing his father's hands 
fast bound, and his mother weeping, added to the 
distressing scene, by his artless cries and tears. 

The brave are always tender-hearted. It was so 
with Jasper and Newton, two of the most undaunted 
spirits that ever lived. They walked out in the neigh- 
Douring wood. The tear was in the eye of both. 
Jasper first broke silence. ^' Newton," said he, " my 
days have been but few ; but I believe their course is 
nearly done." 

"- Why so, Jasper ?" 

" Why, I feel," said he, " that I must rescue these 
poor prisoners, or die with them ; otherwise that wo- 
man and her child will haunt me to my grave." 

" Well, that is exactly what I feel too," replied 
Newton—-" and here is my hand and heart to stand 



56 THE LIFE OF 

by you, my brave friend, to the last drop. Thank 
God, a man can die but once, and there is not sc» 
much in this life that a man need be afraid to leave 
it, especially when he is in the way of his duty." 

The two friends then embraced with great cor-; 
diality, while each read in the other's countenance, \ 
that immortal fire which beams from the eyes of the I 
brave, when resolved to die or conquer in some glo- 
rious cause. 

Immediately after breakfast, the prisoners were 
sent on for Savannah, under a guard of a sergeant and 
corporal with eight men. They had not been gone 
long, before Jasper, accompanied by his friend New- 
ton, took leave of his brother, and set out on some 
errand to the upper country. They had scarcely, 
however, got out of sight of Ebenezer, before they 
struck into the piny woods, and ptished hard after 
the prisoners and their guard, whom they closely 
dogged for several miles, anxiously watching an op- 
portunity to make a blow. But alas ! all hopes of 
that sort seemed utterly extravagant ; for what could 
give two men a ciiance to contend agaiftst ten, espe 
cially when there was found no weapon in the hands 
of the two, while the ten, each man was armed with 
his loaded musket and bayonet. But unable to give 
up their countrymen, our heroes still followed on. 

About two miles from Savannah there is a famous 
spring, generally called the Spa,, well known to tra- 
vellers, who often turn in hither to quench their thirst, 
' Perhaps," said Jasper, " the guard may stop there." 
Then hastening on by a near cut through the woods, 
ihey gained the Spa, as their last hope^ and there con- 
cealed themselves among the bushes that grew abun- 
dantly around the spring. 

Presently the mournful procession came in sight, 
headed by the sergeant, who, on coming opposite to 
the spring, oidered a halt. Hope sprung afresh in our 
heroes' bosoms, strong throbbing too, no doubt, with 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 57 

m 

great alarms, for " it was a fearful oddsP The cor- 
poral with his guard of four men, conducted the pri- 
soners to the spring, while the sergeant with the 
other four, having grounded their arms near the road, 
brought up the rear. The prisoners, wearied with 
their long walk, were permitted to rest themselves on 
the earth. Poor Mrs. Jones, as usual, took her scat 
opposite to her husband, and her little boy, overcome 
with fatigue, fell asleep in her lap. Two of the cor- 
poral's men were ordered to keep guard, and the other 
two to give the prisoners drink out of their canteens 
These last approached the spring where our herops lay 
concealed, and resting their muskets against a pine 
tree, dipped up water : and having drank themselves, 
turned av/ay, with replenished canteens, to give the 
prisoners also. '''' Noxu ! Nexvton^ is our time J^"* said 
Jasper. Then bursting, like two lions, from iheir 
concealment, they snatched up the two muskets that 
were rested against the pine, and in an instant shot 
down the two soldiers that kept guard. And now the 
question was, who should first get the two loaded 
muskets that had just fallen from the hands of the 
slain. For by this time the sergeant and corporal, a 
couple of brave Englishmen, recovering from their 
momentary panic, had sprung and seized upon the 
muskets ; but before they could use them, the strong 
swift-banded Americans, with clubbed guns, levelled 
each at the head of his brave antagonist, the final blow. 
The tender bones of the skull gave way beneath the 
furious strokes, and with wide scattered blood and 
brains down they sunk, pale and quivering to the earth, 
without a groan. Then snatching up the guns which 
had thus, a second time, fallen from the hands of the 
slain, they flew between the surviving enemy, and or- 
dered them to surrender, which they instantly did. 

Having called the prisoners to them, they quickly 
with the point of their bayonets, broke off their hand- 
cuffs, and gave each of them a musket. 



58 THE LIFE OF . 

At the commencement of the fray, poor Mrs. Jones^ 
half frightened to death, had fallen to the ground in a 
swoon, with her little son piteously screaming over 
her. But when she came to herself, and saw her hus- 
band and friends around her, all freed from their fet- 
ters and well armed, she looked and behaved like one 
frantic with joy. She sprung to her husband's bosom 
and with her arms around his neck, subbed out, "C'A 
hless God! bksfi God! my husband is safe ; my husbana 
is not hung yet ;'*'' then snatching up her child, and 
straining him to her soul, as if she would have pressed 
him to death, she cried out — **■ praise! praise! praise 
Gcdfor ever ! my son has a fa ^.her yet /" Then wildlv 
darting round her eyes in que 5t of her deliverers, she 
exclaimed, " Where ! where a re those blessed angels 
that God sent to save my husband i" 

Directing her eyes to Jaspirr and Newton, where 
they stood like two youthful Sampsons, in the full 
flowing of their locks, she ran and fell on her knees 
before them, and seizing their hands, kissed and 
pressed them to her bosom, crying out vehemently, 
" Dear angels ! dear angels ! God bless you ! God 
Almighty bless you for ever !" 

Then instantly, for fear of being overtaken by the 
enemy, our heroes snatched the arms and regimentals 
of the slain, and with their friends and captive foes, 
recrossed the Savannah, and in safety rejoined oux 
army at Purysburgh, to the inexpressible astonish- 
ment and joy of us all. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION 50 



CHAPTER VIII 

The count D^Estang^ ivith the French fleet ^ arrives to 
attack Savannah — our army marche.s and joins htm 
— -fatal effects of D^Estang^s polittnfiss — biographi' 
cal dash of young colonel Laurens — curious dialogue 
betzvixt him a?id the French general — unsuccessful 
attack on Savannah — the brave Jasper mortally 
%uounded — is visited by the author in his last mO" 
ments — interesting conversation — dies like a ChriS" 
tian soldier, 

COULD the wishes of our army have availed, 
those gallant soldiers, (Jasper and Newton) would 
long have lived to enjoy their past, and to v in fresh 
laurels. But alas ! the former of them, tLe heroic 
Jasper, was soon led, like a young lion, to an evil net. 
The mournful story of his death, with hea\y heart 
I now relate. 

Scarcely had he returned from Georgia, laden, as 
aforesaid, with glory, when an express came into 
camp, and informed that the count D'Estang was 
arrived off Tybee. Instantly we struck our tents and 
marched for the siege of Savannah. On arriving near 
that fatal place, we found that the French troops, with 
their cannon and mortars, had just come up. Oh I 
had we but advanced at once to the attac'c, as became 
skilf \1 soldiers, we should have carried every thing 
before us. The frighted garrison would have hauled 
down their colours without firing a shot. This I am 
warranted to say by the declaration of numbers of 
their officers, who afterwards fell into our hands> 
But in place of an immediate coup de main^ the 
courtly D'Estang sent a flag, very politely inviting 
the town to do him the extreme honour of receiving 
their surrender. 

The British commander was not much behind- 
F 



60 THE LIFE OF 

hand with the count in the article of pohteness, for 
he also returned a flag with his compliments, and 
requested to be permitted four and twenty hours to , 
think of the matter . 

If the asking such a favour was extraordinary, what 
must the granting of it have been ? But the accom- 
plished D'Estang was fully equal to such douceurs, 
tor he actually allowed the enemy four and txventij 
hours to think of surrendering I 

But instead of thinkings like simpletons, they fell 
to entrenching^Wkit brave soldiers. And being joined 
that very day by colonel Maitland from Beaufort, 
with a regiment of Highlanders, and assisted by 
swarms of negroes, decoyed from their masters un» 
der promise of freedom, they pushed on their v/orks 
with great rapidity. According to the report of oui 
troops who were encamped nearest to them, nothing 
was heard all that nigh*:, but the huzzas of the sol- 
diers, the lashes of cow-hides, and the cries of ne 
groes. 

I never beheld Marion in so great a passion. I was 
actually afraid he would have broke out on general 
Lincoln. " 3Iy God P"* he exclaimed, " tvho ever heard 
of any thing like this before I — first alloxv an e?ie?ny 
to entrench^ and then fght him I / See the destruction 
brought upon the British at Bunker"^ s Hill I arid yet our 
troops there ivere only ?nilitia I razu^ half-armed clod^ 
hoppers I and not a mortar^ nor carronade^ nor e^ien o 
szvivel — but only their ducking guns ! 

" What then are we to expect from regulars — -com- 
pletely armed with a choice train of artillery, and 
covered by a breast-work ! For my own part, when 
I look upon my brave fellows around me, it wrmgs 
me to the heart, to think how near most of them are 
to their bloody graves." 

In fact, Marion was so outrageous, as indeed were 
all of us, that we at length begged colonel Laurens 
to speak to the count D'Estang. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 61 

And here I must beg the reader's pardon a mo- 
ment, while I inform him that this colonel Laurens 
(son of President Laurens) was a very extraordinary 
young Carolinian 

On a trip to London, he fell in love with, and mar- 
ried a celebrated belle of that city. It would seem 
that he was very much taken with his English rela- 
tions, and they with him, for after his marriage, they 
would not suffer him to revisit his parents, who 
doated on him, being their only son, but detained 
him with them in London, as gay as a young man 
well could be, in the gayest city in the world, moving 
every day in the highest circles of society, and every 
night encircled in the fond arms of a beauteous 
wife. 

But soon as the war against America broke out, 
his gaiety-^ all forsook him. The idea of a ruffian sol- 
diery overrunning his native land, preyed incessantly 
on his £j'lrits, and threw him into those brown stu- 
dies whi-;ii cost his lady full many a tear. LTnable 
to bear his disquietude, he fled at length from his 
wife and infant family, to fight for his country. He 
presented himself before the great Washington, who 
was so struck with the fire that beamed from his 
eyes, that he made him handsome offers of rank in 
the army. But his favourite service was to lead 
forlorn hopeSy and the daring bands that are destined 
to carry the enemy's works by storm. Washington 
often gave him letters to this effect to his generals. 
And this was his object at Savannah, where a regi- 
ment of choice infantry was immediately put under 
his command. But instead of being permitted his 
favourite pleasure of seeing his ardent warriors 
mcunting the enemy's works, and rushing down 
streams of fire, followed by the bayonet, he was 
doomed to fret and pine in the humble office of 
interpreter between count D'Estang and gener**^ 
Lincoln. 



6^ THE LIFE OF 

" But, Monsieur le count," said Laurens to D'Es- 
tang, " the American officers say they are afraid you 
have given the English too long time to think." 

At this, as Laurens told us afterwards, the count 
put on a most comic stare^ and breaking into a hearty 
laugh, replied, " De Engleesh tink ! ha, ha, ha ! By 
g^ar dat one ver good parole ! De Engleesh tink, heh^ 
Mw^jsieur le colonel ! By gar, de Engleesh never tink^ 
but for deir bellie. Give de Jack Engleeshman plenty 
beef — plenty pudding — plenty porter, by gar he nevei 
tink any more, he lay down, he go a sleep like vun 
hog." 

"But, Monsieur le count," continued Laurens, 
*^ the English are doing worse for us than thinking. 
They are working away like horses, and will soon 
get their defences too high for us to scale.'' 

" Eh, heh, Monsieur le colonel ! you tink-a so i 
Well den, by gar you no need for tink-a so — by gar 
my French-a-mans run over de fence just like vun 
tlef horse run over de cornfield fence — mind now I 
tell-a you dat. Monsieur le colonel." 

" Well, but Monsieur le count, the British some- 
times fight like the d — 1." , 

" Sacre Dieu !" replied the nettled count, starting 
and gaping as though he would have swallowed a 
young alligator — ^" de Briteesh fight like de diable ! 
Jaun foutre de Briteesh ! when they been known for 
fight like de diable? Ess, ess, dat true enough; dey 
fight de Americans like de diable — but by gar dey 
no fight de French-a-mans so — no no, by gar dey no 
make one moutful for myFrenek-a-mans — Morbleul 
my French-a-mans eat dem up like vun leetle gre- 
nouille. ^ 

" Green Owl!'*'* exclaimed one of general Linct)ln's 
aids — ^^ Oh my God ! who ever heard of a green oxvl 
before ?" 

Here l4aurens, smiling at the officer's mistake, re- 



GEN, FRANCIS MARION. 63 

plied, " not green owl^ sir, but grenoiiille ; grenobille, 
sir, is the French for frog." 

"Aye, sure enough, sure enough, yrc?^," continued 
the count, ^^frog; grenouille is frog. By gar. Mon- 
sieur le colonel, you be vun dmn good interpret^ I 
set dat well enough. Well Jen, now. Monsieur le 
colonel, you hea.-a me speak-— my French-a-mans 
eat dem Jack Engleesh all same like vun leetle frog." 

' Oh to be sure ! — -no doubt of all that. Monsieur 
le count — but, before we eat them up, they may kill 
a great many of our soldiers." 

" Dey kill-a de soldier !" replied the passionate 
count — " well what den if dey do kill-a de soldier ! 
Jaun foutre de soldier ! what dey good for but for be 
kill ? dat deir trade. You give-a vun poor dog sol- 
dier, two, three, four penny a day, he go fight — he 
get kill. Well den, what dat ? By gar he only get 
what he hire for." 

" But pardon me. Monsieur le count, we can't 
spare them." 

" Vat r no spare de soldier ! de grand Monarque 
no spare de soldier ? O mon Dieu ! Vy, Monsieur le 
colonel — for why you talk-a so ? Well den, hear-a 
me speak now. Monsieur le colonel — you see de star 
m de sky ; de leaf on de tree ; de sand on de shore 
— you no see all dat, heh ? Well den, by gar, Mon 
sieur le colonel, de grand Monarque got soldier more 
an-a all dat — ess, sacra Dieu ! more an-a all dat, by 
gar." 

" Well but. Monsieur le count, is it not cruel to 
kill the poor fellows notwithstanding ?" 

" Pooh /" replied the count, throwing back his 
head, and puffing out his cheeks as when a segar 
sucker explodes a cataract of smoke from the crater 
of his throat ;" cruel ! vat cruel for kill-a de sol- 
dier ! by gar, Monsieur le colonel, you make-a de 
king of France laugh he hear-a you talk after dat 
fashong. Let-a me tell you, Monsieur le colonel^ de 
F2 



64 THE LIFE OF 

king of France no like general Washington— by gar, 
general Washington talk \vi' de soldier — he shake 
hand vrV de soldier — he give de soldier dram — By 
gar, de grand Monarque no do so — no, sacra Dieu ! 
he no look at de soldier. When de king of France 
^ ride out in de coach rcyale wid de supeerb horses, 
and harness shining so bright all vun like gold, if he 
run over one soldier, you tink he going stop for dat ? 
No, sacra foutre ! he ride on so, all one like if nothing 
at all been happen. Jaun foutre de soldier ! let him 
prenez garde for himself ; by gar de grand Monarque 
no mind dat. De grand Monarque only tink of de 
soldier commes des c/iiens, like de poor dam dog for 
fight for him." 

Thus ended the dialogue between colonel Laurens 
and the count D'Estang. 

The next day, the memorable twenty-four hours 
being expired, a flag was sent into town to know the 
determination of the British officer, who very polite- 
ly replied, that having consulted his pillow, he had 
made up his mind to defend the place. A regular 
siege was then commenced, and continued for three 
weeks : at the end of which an attack was made, and 
with the success which Marion had all along pre- 
dicted. After a full hour's exposure to the destruc- 
tive rage of grape shot and musketry, we were 
obliged to make a precipitate retreat ; leaving the 
ground covered with the mingled carcasses of 400 
Americans and 800 Frenchmen. Marion's corps 
fighting with their usual confidence, suffered great 
loss ; himself did not receive a scratch. Colonel 
Laurens raged like a wounded lion. Soon as the 
retreat was ordered he paused, and looking round on 
his fallen men, cried out, " Poor fellows, I envy you !" 
then hurling his sword in wrath against the ground, 
he retired. Presently, after we had reached our en- 
campment, he came to my marquee, and like one 
greatly disordered, said, " Horry, my life is a bur- 



G£N. FRANCIS MARION, 63 

den to me ; I would to God I was lying on yonder 
field at rest with my poor men !" 

^ No ' no ! none of that, colonel," said I, " none oi 
that; . icrust we shall live to pay them yet for all 
this." 

And so it turned out. And though for humanity's 
sake, 1 ought not to hoa.'ft of it, yet we did live to pay 
them for it, and often too : and in the same bloody 
coin which they gave us that day. And although in 
that fiery season of my days, and when my dear 
country M'as in danger, it was but natural for me to 
rejoice in the downfall of my enemies, yet I was often 
witness to scenes, which to this day I can never think 
of but with sonow — as when, for example, after 
dashing upon an enemy by surprise, and cutting one 
half of them to pieces and chasing the rest, we re- 
turned to collect the horses and arms of the slain 
Who, I say, without grief could behold those sad 
sights which then offered themseKes, of human be- 
ings lying mangled over the crimson ground — some 
stone dead, some still alive and struggling, with 
brains oozing from their cloven skulls — and others 
sitting up, or leaning on their elbov/s, but pale with 
loss of blood, running in streams from their mortal 
wounds , and they themselves looking down, the 
while, sadly thinking of home and of distant wives 
and children, whom they shall never see again. 

Such thoughts, if often cherished, Avould much 
abate the rancour of malice in the hearts of those 
whose sad destiny it is to kill one another; especially 
if It v/ere known how short sometimes are the tri- 
umphs of the victor. It was remarkably so in the pre 
sent case : for colonel Maitland, of the Highlanders, 
who had contributed a large part to this very unex- 
pected victory, was so elated by it, that he took to 
nard drinking, and killed himself in a sing-le week; 
»nd the sickly season coming on, the greater part 



66 THE LIFE OF 

of the garrison perished of the yellow or bilioas 
fever ! ! 

Thus friends and foes the same sad fortune shared, 
And sickness swallowed whom the sword had spar'd. 

Many gallant men were the victims of count D'Es- 
tang's folly in this alTair; among the number was that 
impetuous Polander, the count Polaski. 

But none fell more universally lamented, than the 
heroic Jasper. Ever}- reader must wish to hear the 
last of this brave and generous soldier. And they 
shall have it faithfully, for I happened to be close by 
him when he received his death's wound ; and I v/as 
with him when he breathed his last. 

Early in the action, the elegant colours presented 
by Mrs. Elliot, had been planted on the enemy's 
works ; and the fury of the battle raged near the spot 
where thev waved. During the whole of the bloody 
fray, Jasper had remained unhurt. But on hearing 
the retreat sounded, he rushed up to bear off his 
colours, and in that desperate act, was mortally 
wounded. As he passed by me, with the colours in 
his hands, I observed he had a bad limp in his walk. 

" You are not much hurt, I hope, Jasper," said I. 

" Yes, major." he replied, '' I believe I have got my 
furlough." 

"Pshaw," quoth I, ' furlough indeed, for what?" 

" Why to go home," he answered, " to go to Hea- 
ven, I hope." 

"Pooh!" said I, and having, as the reader must 
suppose, a good deal to attend to, I turned off and 
left him. Hov/ever, his words made such an impres- 
sion on me, that soon as duty permitted, I v>'ent to 
see him, and found too true what he had predicted ; 
the ball had opened a blood vessel in the lungs which 
no art could stop, and he was bleeding to slow but 
certain death. 

As I entered the tent, he lifted his eyes to me, but 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 67 

their fire was almost quenched ; and stretching his 
feeble hand, he said, with perfect tranquillity, " Well, 
major, I told you I had got my furlough." 

'* I hope not," I replied. 

" O yes !" said he, " I am going — and very fast 
too ; but, thank God, I am not afraid to go." 

I told him I knew he was too brave to fear death, 
and too honest to be alarmed about its consequences. 

"Why, as to that matter, sir," said he, " I won't 
brag: but I have my hopes, notwithstanding I may 
be wrong, for I know I am but a poor ignorant body, 
but somehow or other, I have always built my hopes 
of what God may do for me hereafter^ on what he 
has done for me here !" 

I told him I thought he was very correct in that. 

" Do you, indeed ?" said he. " Well, I am mighty 
glad of that — and now major, here's the way I always 
comfort myself: Fifty years ago, (I say to myself,) 
I was nothings and had no thought that there was any 
such grand and beautiful world as this. But still 
there was such a world notwithstanding; and here 
God has brought me into it. Now, can't he, in fifty 
years more, or indeed in fifty minutes more, bring 
me into another world, as much above this as this is 
above that state of nothings wherein I was fifty years 
ago ?" 

I told him that this was, to my mind, a very happy 
way of reasoning ; and such, no doubt, as suited the 
greatness and goodness of God. 
I " I think so, major," said he "and I trust I shall 
find it so ; for though I've been a man of blood, yet, 
thank God, I've always lived with an eye to that 
I great hope. My mother, major, was a good woman ; 
when I was but a child, and sat on her lap, she used 
to talk to me of God, and tell how it was he who built 
this great world, with all its riches and good things : 
and not for himself^ hut for me! and also, that if I 
would but do his will in that only acceptable way, a 



eg TUK m^E OF 



good life^ he would do still greikel- and bette? ihings 
for me hereafter. 

" Well, major, from the mouth of a dear mother, 
like her, these things went so deep into my heatt, 
that they could never be taken away from me. 1 
have hardly ever gone to bed.^ or got up again, with- 
out saying my prayers. I have honoured my father 
and mother j and, thank God, been strictly honest. 
And since you have known me, major, I believe you 
can bear witness, that though a strong man, I nevei 
was quarrelsome^ 

I told him, nothing afforded me more satisfaction, 
than to remember that, since he was now going to 
die, he had always led so good a life. 

He answered, with tears in his eyes, that he had a 
good hope he was going where he should not do what 
he had been obliged to do in this world. " I- ve killed 
men in my time, major, but not in malice, but in whit 
I thought a just war in defence of my country. And 
as I bore no malice against those I killed, n^iiher do 
I bear any against those who have killed me. And I 
heartily trust in God for Christ's sake, that we shall 
yet, one day, meet together, where we shall forgive 
and love one another like brothers. I own, indeed, 
major, that had it so pleased God, I should have been 
glad to stay a little longer with you to fight for my 
country. But however, I humbly Aoj&ffthat my death 
is of God ; which makes it welcome to me, and so I 
bow me to his blessed will. And now, my good friend, 
as I feel I have but a little time to live, I beg you 
will do a few things for me Avhen I am dead and 
gone." 

I could not speak : but gathering my answer frem 
my tears, and the close press I gave his hand, he thus 
went on, but it was in a low voice and laborious. 

" You see that sword ? — It is the one which go- 
«?ernor Rutledge presented to me for my services at 
Fort Moultrie — give that sword to my father, and 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 69 

tell him I never dishonoured it. If he should weep 
for me, tell him his son died in hope of a better life. 
If you should see that great gentlewoman, Mrs. 
Elliot, tell her I lost niy life in saving the colours she 
gave to our regiment. And if ever you should come 
across poor Jones and his wife, and little boy, tell 
them Jasper is gone ; but that the remembrance of 
the hard battle which he once fought for their sakes 
brought a secret joy to nis heart just as it was abou 
to stop its motion for evei." 

He spoke these last woiqs in a livelier tone than 
usual, but it was like the lasi kindling of the taper in 
its oil-less socket — for instantly the paleness of death 
overspread his face, and after a feeble effort to vomit, 
with convulsions, the natural effect of great loss of 
blood, he sunk back and expired. 

From this victim of B'Estang's madness, I went 
with a heavy heart on parade, to take a review of the 
sad remains of the battle. The call of the roll com- 
pleted the depression of my spirits. To every fourth 
or fifth name there was no answer — the gloomy si- 
lence which ensued, told us where they were. About 
twelve o'clock we sent in a flag to the garrison for 
permission to bury our dead. Curiosity led me to 
accompany the party destined to this mournful duty. 
I had prepared myself for a sorrowful sight j but 
ah ! what words can express v/hat I then saw and 
suffered ! 

A scattered few lay here and there on the utmost 
verge ot the field, killed by cannon shot, and so man- 
gled, that in some instances, it v/as hard to tell who 
they were. As we advanced, they lay thicker and 
thicker. Some, ncw quite dead, were constantly cry- 
ing, ^' Water ! water ! — Oh ' for God's sake, a little 
water ! "--Others lay quite dead, but still their life- 
less visages retained the dark frowns of war. There, 
on the side of the enemy's breast-work, lay the brave 
design Boushe, covering, \'Uh his dead body, the 



70 THE LIFE OF 

very spot where he had fixed the American standard. 
His face was pale and cold as the earth he pressed, 
but stiil it spoke the fierce determined air of one 
■whose last sentiment towards those degenerate Bri- 
tons was, " There, d — n you ! look at the stripes of 
liberty." 

Close by ensign Boushe, lay that elegant young 
man, Alexander Hume, Esq. with his sword still 
grasped in his stiffened fingers. My heart bled within 
me, when I looked on young Hume, where he lay in 
all the pale beauties of death. He was to have been 
married the week following, to a charming woman ; 
but such was his zeal to serve his country, that he 
came a volunteer to our camp, and met his death the 
next morning after he joined us. Gifted with a pretty 
taste for painting, he had tried his skill, and very 
successfully too, in sketching the likeness of his love- 
ly mistress. For on opening his bosom, was found, 
suspended by a blue riband, (the happy lover's co- 
lour) a fine likeness of the beautiful Miss : the 

back of the portrait was stained with his blood; but 
unconscious of her lover's fate, she still wore the en- 
chanting smile with which yielding beauty views 
the you*h she loves. 

We then proceeded to bury our dead ; which was 
done by digging large pits, sufficient to contain about 
a hundred corpses. Then taking off their clothes^ 
with heavy hearts, we threw them into the pits, with 
very little regard to order, and covered them over 
with earth. 

" Poor brothers, farev/ell ! the storm of your last 
battle has long ago ceased on the field, and no trace 
now remains on earth that you ever lived. The 
worms have devoured your flesh ; and the mounds 
niised over your dust, are sunk back to the common 
level with the plain. But ah ! could your mournful 
story be read, the youth of America would listen to 
the last words of Washington, and *" study the art of 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 7i 

war,' that their countrymen might no more be mur- 
dtred by military quacks 

As a hint to American oflicf r«:, I think it my duty 
to state the following fact : — Our fatal attack on Sa- 
vannah was made very early in the morning. A few 
ho\irs previous thereto, a council of war was held ; 
md while it v/as deliberating, a deserter and spy had 
the address to bear a musket, as sentinel at the doo> 
'jf the marquee 1 1 On hearing where the attack was 
to be made, he ran off in the dark, and gave such in- 
telligence to the enemy, as enabled them very com- 
pletely to defeat us. The fellow was afterwards 
taken at the battle of Hobkirk Hill, near Camden, 
and hung. 

Scarcely had we finished burying the dead, before 
the count D'Estang hurried on board his ships with 
his troops and artillery, while we, passing on in si- 
lence by the way of Zubley's ferry, returned to Caro- 
lina, and pitched our tents at Sheldon, the country' 
seat of general Bull. 

The theatre of v/ar being, from this period, and 
for some time at least, removed to the northern 
states, the governor and council were pleased to re- 
duce the regiments, and dismiss the supernumerary 
offirers. To sor^e of mv brethren in arms, this was 
matter of serious alaivn. But for rnyself, possessing, 
thank God, a liberal ftrtune in the countr}-, and feel- 
ing no attractkr*. to the camp, except when drav/n 
thither by public danger, X was quite happy to hear 
of this new arrangement, and v.uited on his excel- 
lency to return my cc^nmission. 

Perhaps srrne may say it was pride in me, and 
diat I did not like the id^a of being unfrocked. Why, 
as to thai matter, it is not for me to boast cf my 
standing among my superiors in those days. But 
this I ni'iFt needs say, that it is joy enough, and 
glory enough too, for me to know, that I was always 
the ia^"'1lrite of the great Marion j and thai he sel- 
G 



72 THE LIFE OF 

dom ever asked the lightning of any other sword 
than mine, to lead his squadron to the charge. How- 
ever, the moment I heard, as above, that it was in 
agitation to reduce the regiments, I waited on the 
governor, and begged that, as there was nothing 
doing, he would allow me to return to my planta- 
tion. To my plantation I c/id return, and there con- 
tinued till spring, ITSO, when Charleston was taken 
by the British j at which time, and for some weeks 
before, I was grievously afflicted with the rheuma- 
tism. Thus by a providence, which, I confess, I did 
not at that time altogether like, I was kindly saved 
from being kidnapped by the enemy, and also inrro- 
duced into a field of some little service, I hope, to my 
countr}'^, and of no great dishonour to myself. How* 
ever, be this as it may, the reader shall soon see, and 
then let him judge for himself. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Providentta/ escape of Marion out of Charleston — the 
British feet and army invest and take that place — 

Tarleton and the British officers beg-in to let out 

younsf Scotch Macdoriald comes upon the turf— extra- 
or dinar if anecdote of him — plai^t^ a verij curious trick 
on a rich old tory. 

HOW happy it is for man, that the author of hi^- 
bcing loves him so much better than he loves him 
5elf ; and has established so close a connexion betweei 
his duty and his advantage. This delightful truth 
was remr\rkably exemplified in an event that befel 
Marion about this time, March, 1 780. Dining with 
a squad of choice wliigs, in Charleston, in the hout-e 
pf Mr. Alexts.nd^-r M-Qufcn^ TroAd «trff \, he was r-jo 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. TJ 

fiequently pressed to bumpers of old wine, that he 
found himself in a fair way to get drunk. 'Twas in 
vain he attempted to beat a retreat. The company 
swore, that that would never do for general Marion, 
Finding, at last, that there was no other way of es- 
caping a debauch^ but by leaping out of one of the 
windows of the dining-room, which was on the se- 
cond stoiy, he bravely undertook it. It cost him, 
however, a broken ankle. When the story got about 
in Charleston, most people said he was a great fool 
for his pains ; but the event soon proved that Ma- 
rion was in the right, and that there is no policy like 
sticking to a man's duty. For, behold ! presently 
Charleston was invested by a large British army, and 
the American general (Lincoln) finding Marion waa 
utterly unfit for duty, advised him to push off in a 
litter to his seat in St. John's parish. Thus providen- 
tially was Marion preserved to his country when 
Charleston fell, as it soon did, with all our troops. 

The spirits of the British were so raised by the 
capture of our metropolis with all the southern army, 
that they presently began to scour the neighbouring 
country. And never victors, perhaps, had a country 
more completely in their power. Their troops were 
of the choicest kind ; excellently equipped, and com- 
manded by active, ambitious young fellows, who 
looked on themselves as on the high road to fortune 
among the conquered rebels. They all carried with 
them pocket maps of South Carolina, on which they 
were constantly poring like young spendthrifts on 
their fathers' last testaments. They would also ask a 
world of questions, such as, " where lay the richest 
lands ? — and the finest situations ? — and who were 
the warmest old fellows, and had the finest girls ?" 
and when answered to their humour, they would 
break out into hearty laughs ; and flourish their 
sv/ords, and whoop and hoic it away like young fox- 
hunters, just striking on a fresh trail. 



74 THE LIFE OF 

Some of them had Dr. Madan's famous book call- 
ed "Thylipthora, or a Defence of Polygamy," with 
which they were prodigiously taken, and talked very 
fi^eely of reducing the system to practice. Cornwal- 
(is, it seems, was to be a bashaw of three tails — Raw- 
don and Tarleton, of two each — and as a natural ap- 
pendage of such high rank, they were to have their 
seraglios and harams filled with the greatest beauties 
of ihe country. 

"Huzza, my brave fellows !" — they would say to 
each other; " one more campaign and the hash will be 
settled with the d — d rebels, and then stand by the 
girls! — stand by^ the Miss Pinckneys ! and Elliots ! 
and Rutledges ! and all your bright-eyed, soft bosom- 
ed, lovely dames, look sharp ! Egad ! your charms 
shall reward our valour ! like the grand Turk, w^e'll 
have regiments of our own raising! Charleston shall 
be our Constantinople ! and our Circassia, this sweet 
Carolina famed for beauties ! Prepare the baths, the 
perfumes, and spices ! bring forth the violins and the 
rose buds ! and tap tlie old Madeira, that our souls 
may all be joy !" 

'Twas in this way they would rant ; and then» 
brightened up to the pitch, they would look and grin 
on each other as sweetly as young foxes, who, prowl- 
ing round a farm yard, had suddenly heard the cack 
ling of the rooster pullets. The reader shall present* 
ly see the violent and bloody course of these ruffians^ 
who did such dishonour to the glorious island thev 
came from. But before I begin my tragedy^ I beg 
leave, by way of prologue, to entertain hlAn a momen* 
with a very curious y^rc*? that was acted on a wealthy 
old tory, near Monk's Corner, while colonel Tarleton 
with the British advance, lay there. 

The hero of the play was a remarkably stout, red- 
haired young Scotsman, named Macdonald, son of the 
Macdonald of famous defeat at Morris Creek Bridg^e 
North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his father. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. '5 

J • • «,i «„>. fvnnn« Led by curioaity, 1 
he carae and joined o^^."o°^;- j^^ ^,4 reason : to 

Immemareiy grldRe, I fell to thinking w^at 

his fnenda at the '-"^'^\°r'"f ' , ^ ■ ^ 

could be the cause ; ^/" *^;'^^^?,;;^: njratitude. 
have been owing to their ^^ "/"° V\° ^^ of people, 

" Here -- " -<}i'3tb i^I^^ouL (!o^ 
meaning my poor f^^'j^'^*""" p„M:sh 'after the mas. 
the '--d-ous swords of the Engsh ,n ^_^^^ 

rarwSgbutThf^io^^^^^ 

SSg thfs f-ndly people that was e^^^^^^^^^ 

K vprv eve that saw us, had pity , ^na e\er> .uiu 
L\eryeyein«i ' ,j^ received us in their 

reached out to ^^^'^\; ,^^^7^ ^^ei^^ ^ unfcrtunate 

us, and spread then f"^«' ^"" ,^,^rc in a land of 

{'eid ofYe ::>MUtle of CuUoden -d how a. 

English gave no quarter t° -^-f-^-^f^.^^^-^^Sse 
men, but butchered all hejcoua ^^^ ^^.^^ 

,/,.«/,^ ».n, ./ thoj^e "--';-/-- ,t the rueful 
They recei*d us >"to. *^!'°'°'r^j "^eir beauteous 
forests, and gave us t^-^'^we became rfch- And yet, 
daughters in m^'-^fS^'^^t-.TsViJame to America; to 
after all, soon as the E^f '^"^^Vor refusing to 
rt- tUHieTm'y Ser Tndtlnds, forgetlng 
\ tW^te Americans had done for them, went and 
■S the B^i^^h, to assist them to cut the throats of 

'■"r;>f'4''^"aS'to myself, " if<roer there u:n a time 
G 2 



.^ 



i'ajfireTr. 




McDonald's trick cm the old Ton 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 77 

out Selim, my young Selim ! do you hear ? you vil- 
lain, do you hear ?" 

" Tes^ ?nassa, be sure /" 

Then turnhig to Macdonald, he went on : " Well, 
Mr. Sergeant, you have made me confounded glad 
this morning, you may depend. And now suppose 
you take a glass of peach ; of good old peach, Mr. 
Sergeant ? do you think it would do you any harm ?'' 

" Why, they say it is good of a rainy morning, 
sir," replied Macdonald. 

" O yes, famous of a rainy morning, Mr. Sergeant ! 
1 mighty antifogmatic . It prevents you the ague, 
Mr. Sergeant ; it clears a man's throat of the cob- 
webs, sir." 

" God bless your honour !" said Macdonald, as he 
turned off a bumper of the high-beaded cordial. 

But scarcely had he smacked his lips, before Dick 
paraded Selim ; a preud, full-blooded, stately steed 
that stepped as though he disdained the earth he 
walked upon. 

Here the old fellow brightening up, broke out 
again ; " Aye ! there, Mr. Sergeant, there is a horse 
for you ! is'nt he, my boy V 

" Faith, a noble animal, sir," replied Macdonald. 

" Yes, egad ! a noble animal indeed ! — a charger 
for a king, Mr. Sergeant ! — Well, my compliments to 
colonel Tarleton : tell him I've sent him a horse, my 
youg Selim, my grand Turk, do you hear, my son 
of thunder ? And say to the colonel that I don't 
grudge him neither, for egad! he's too noble for mc, 
Mr. Sergeant. I've no work that's fit for him, sir; 
no ! damme, sir, if there's any work in all this coun- 
try that's good enough for him, but just that which 
he is now going on ; the driving the d — d rebels out 
of the land." 

And in order to send Selim off in high style, he 
ordered Dick to bring down his elegant new saddle 
and holsters, with his silver-mounted pistols. Then 



TB THE LIFE OF 

giving Macdonald a hot breakfast, and lending him 
his great coat, as it was raining, he let him go, with 
a promise that he would come next morning and see 
how colonel Tarleton liked young Selim. 

Accordingly next morning he waited on colonel 
Tarleton, and told his name, with the smiling coun- 
tenance of one who expected to be eaten up with 
fondness. But alas! to his infinite mortification, 
Tarleton heard his name without the least change of 
feature. 

After recovering a little from his embarrassment, 
he asked colonel Tarleton how he liked his charger, 

" Charger, sir !" replied Tarleton. 

" Yes, sir, the elegant horse I sent you yesterday." 

" The elegant horse you sent me, sir !" 

" Yes, sir, and by your sergeant, sir, as he called 
himself." 

" An elegant horse ! and by my sergeant ! Why 
really, sir, I-I-I don't understand all this !" 

The looks and voice of colonel Tarleton too sadly 
convinced the old traitor that he had been bit ; and 
that young Selim was gone ! then trembling and pale, 
cried out, " Why, my dear good sir, did you not send 
a sergeant yesterday with your compliments to me, 
and a request that I would send you my very best 
horse for a charger, which I did V 

^ No, sir, never !" replied Tarleton : " I never sent 
a sergeant on any such errand. Nor till this moment 
did I ever knoV that there existed on earth such a 
being as you." 

To have been outwitted in this manner by a rebel, 
sergeant — to have lost his peach brandy — hii^ hot 
breakfast — ^liis great coat— his new saddle — his silver 
mounted pistols — and, worse than all, his darling 
horse^ his young, full-blooded, bounding Selim — all 
these keen reflections, like so many forked lightnings, 
falling at once on the train and tinder of his passions 
blew them up to such a diabolical rage that the old sin« 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^9 

ner had like to have been suffocated on the spot. He 
turned black in the face ; he shook throughout ; and 
as soon as he could recover breath and power of 
speech, he broke out into a torrent of curses, enough 
to raise the hair on any Christian man's head. 

Nor was colonel Tarleton much behind him, when 
he came to learn what a noble horse had slipped 
through his hands. And a noble horse he was in- 
deed ! Full sixteen hands high ; the eye of a hawk; 
the spirit of the king eagle ; a chest like a lion ; swifter 
than a roebuck, and strong as a buffalo. 

I asked Macdonald, how he could reconcile it to 
himself to take the old polti oon's horse in that way ? 

" Why, sir," replied he, " as to that matter, people 
will think differently; but for my part I hold that all 
:s fair in war : and, besides, sir, if I had not taken 
him, colonel Tarleton, no aoubt, would have got 
him. And then, with such a swift strong charger as 
this, he might do us as much harm as I hope to do to 
them." 

And he did do them harm with a vengeance ; for 
he had no more sense of fear than a hungry tiger. 
And, as to his strength, it was such, that with one of 
Potter's blades he would make no more to drive 
through cap and skull of a British dragoon, than a 
boy would, with a case-knife, to chip off the head of 
a carrot. And then, he always kept Selim up so lust- 
ily to the top of his metal. He was so fond of him, 
that I verily believe he would at any time have sold 
the shirt ofl'his back to get corn for him. And truly 
Selim was not much his debtor j tor, at the first flash 
and glimpse of a red coat^ he wouj 1 paw and champ 
his iron bit with rage ; and the mo'nent he heard the 
word "^0," off he was among them like a thunder' 
bolt. 

And to see how Macdonald would charge^ you 
would swear the fear of death was never before hia 
eyes. Whether it was om or ten against him, \t made 



80 "" THE LIFE OF 

no odds to this gallant Scotsman. He never^toppct! 
to count noses, but would dash in upon the thickest 
of them, and fell to hewing and cutting down like a 
very fury incarnate. 

Poor Macdonald ! the arm of his strength is now 
in dust ; and his large red cheeks have, long ago, 
been food for worms : but never shall I forget wheu 
first I saw him fight. 'Twas in the days when the 
British held Georgetown ; and Marion had said to 
me, " Go and reconnoitre." I took only Macdonald 
with me. Before day we reached our place of con- 
cealment, a thick clump of pines near the road, and 
in full view of the enemy's lines. Soon as the bonny 
gray-eyed morning began to peep, we heard the town 
all alive, as it were, with drums and fifes ; and about 
sunrise, beheld five dragoons turn out, and with 
prancing steeds dash up the road towards us. I turned 
my eye on Macdonald, and saw his face all kindled up 
with the joy of battle. It was like that terrible joy 
which flashes from the eyes of an ambushed lion, when 
he beholds the coming forth of the buffaloes towards 
his gloomy cave. " Zounds, Macdonald," said I 
" here's an odds against us, five to two." " By my soul 
now captain," he replied, " and let 'em come on 
Three are welcome to the sword of Macdonald." 

Soon as they were come fairly opposite to us, we 
gave them a blast from our bugles, and with draw)? 
sabres broke in upon them like a tornado. 

Their panic was complete ; two we stopped, over- 
thrown and weltering in the toad. The remaining 
three wheeled about, and taking to their heels, went 
off as if old Nick had been bringing up the rear. Then 
yovi might have heard the roar, and seen the dust, 
which dragoons can raise, when, with whip and spur 
and wildly rolling eyes, they bend forward from the 
pursuit o4 death. My charger being but a heav} 
brute, was soon distanced. But they could not dis- 
tanee the swift-footed Selim. Rapid as the deadly 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SI 

blast of the desert, he pursue"H their dusty course, still 
gathering upon them at every jump. And before they 
could reach the town, though so near, he brought his 
furious rider alongside of two of them, whom he cut 
down. One hundred yards further, and the third also 
would have been slain; for Macdonald, with his 
crimson claymore, was within a few steps of him, 
when the guns of the fort compelled him to retire. 
However, though quickly pursued by the enemy, he 
had the address to bring off an elegant horse o5 one 
of the dragoons whom he had killed. 



CHAPTER X. 



< TTie abomination and desolation set up in South Caro 
' Una — the author^ xvith sorrowful hearty quits hi* 
I native land^ and Jiies to the north in quest of war^ 
I like friends-^fortunate rencontre ivith his gallant 
friend colonel Marioii — curious adventures. 

\ AFTER the capture of Charleston, with all our 
I troops, the British, as aforesaid, began to spread them- 
j selves over the country. Then was exhibited a spec- 
tacle, which for sadness and alarm, ought never to be 
forgotten by the people of America. I mean how easy 
a thing it is for a small ])ody of soldiers to overrun a 
populous and powerful country. The British did not, 
after Sir H 'nry Clinton's return to New York, exceed 
three thousand men; and South Carolina alone, at the 
lowest computation, must have contained ffty thou- 
] "io^dl and yet this host of poor honest men were made 
I to trCiTible before that handful of ruffians, as a flock of 
I sheep before the wolf, or a houseful of little children 
before a dark frowning pedagogue. The reason is 
I immensely plain. The British were all embodied and 
, firm as a rock of granite ; the Carolinians were scat- 
H 



82 THE LIFE OF 

tered over the country loose as a rope of sand : the 
British all well armed and disciplined, moved in 
dreadful harmony, giving their fire like a volcano : 
the Carolinians, with no other than birding pieces, 
and strangers to the art of war, were comparatively 
feeble as a forest of glow-worms ; the British, though 
but units in number, were so artfully arranged that 
they told for myriads ; while, for lack of unity, the 
Carolinians, though numerous as myriads, passed 
only for ciphers. In short, the British v/ere a handful 
of hawks ; the poor Carolinians a swarm of rice-birds, 
and rather than be plucked to the pin feather, or pick- 
ed to the bone, they and their little ones, they were 
fain to flatter those furious falcons, and oft times to 
chirp and sing when they were much in the humour 
to hate and curse. 

Oh ! blind indeed, and doubly blind is that people, 
and well worthy of iron yokes, who, enjoying all the 
sweets of liberty, in a land of milk and honey, can 
expose to foreign Philistines, that blessed Canaan, un 
guarded by military science. Surely those who thus 
throw " their pearl btfore swine," richly deserve that 
the beast should turn again and trample them^ and 
their treasures too^ into the mire. Yes, and had it not 
been for a better watch than our own, at this day, like 
the wi etched Irish, we should have been trampled 
into the mire of slavery; groaning under heavy bar 
dens to enrich our task-masters ; and doomed on 
every fruitless attempt at freedom, to fatten th^ 
buzzards with our gibbeted carcasses. 

For lack of this habitual military preparation on 
our part, in a few days after the fall of Charleston, 
Col. Tarleton, with only one hundred and fifty horse, 
galloped up to Georgetown, through the most popu- 
lous part of the state, with as much hauteur as an 
overseer and his boys would gallop through a negro 
plantation ! To me this was the signal for clearirig out. 
Accordingly ^ though still in much pain from the rhcu 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION, B^ 

Aiatism, I mounted my horse, and with sword and 
pistol by my side, set out for the northward, in quest 
of friendly powers to aid our fallen cause. In passing 
through Georgetown, I saw a distant group of peo- 
ple, to whom I rode up, and with g-reat civility^ a.s I 
thought, asked the nervs. To which a young fellow 
very scornfully replied, that " Colonel Tarleton was 
coming, and that the country, thank God, would soon 
be cleared of the continental colonels." 

I was within an ace of drawing a pistol and shoot- 
ing the young slave dead upon the spot. But God was 
pleased to give me patience to bear up under that hea* 
vy cross ; for which I Jiave since very heartily thank- 
ed him a thousand times and more. And indeed, on 
thinking over the matter, it has often struck me, that 
the man who could speak in that way to one who had 
on, as he saw, the American uniform, must be a sa- 
vage, and therefore not an object of anger, but of pity. 
But though my anger was soon over, nothing could 
cure the melancholy into which this affair threw me. 
To see my native country thus prostrate under fo- 
reign usurpers, the generality quite disheartened, and 
the few, who dared to take her part, thus publicly in- 
sulted, was a shock I was not prepared for, and which, 
therefore, sunk my spirits to the lowest ebb of despon- 
dence. Such was the frame of mind wherein I left 
my native state, and set out, sick and alone, for the 
northward, with scarce a hope of ever seeing bettei 
days. About the middle of the second day, as I beat 
my solitary road, slowly winding through the silent, 
gloomy woods of North Carolina, I discovered, just 
-before me, a stranger and his servant. Instantly my 
heart sprang afresh for the pleasures of society, and 
quickening my pace, I soon overtook the gentleman: 
when lo ! who should it be but the man first of all io 
my wishes, though the last in my expectations ; who 
I say, should it be but Marion ! Our mutual surprise 
was great. " Good heavens !" we both exclaimed w 



84. THE LIFE OF 

the same moment, " Is that colonel INIarion f" " la 
that Horry ?" After the first transports of that joy, 
which those who have been long absent from deai 
friends, can better conceive than I describe, we be- 
gan to inquire into each other's destinations, which 
was found to be the same ; both flying to the north 
for troops to fight the British. We had not rode far 
when Marion, after looking up to the sun, who was 
now past his half-way house, came suddenly to a hair, 
and said, " Well, come Horry, I feel both peckish 
and weary, and here is a fine shade, so let us go down 
and rest, and refresh ourselves awhile." 

^Vherenpon I dismounted; and with the help of his 
servant, for his ankle was yet very crazy, got him down 
too. Then, sitting side by side, on the trunk of a 
fallen pine, we talked over the mournful state of our 
country ; and came at last, as we had always c' jne, to 
this solemn conclusion, that we would stand oy her 
like true children, and either conquer or die vv th her. 

After this, a piece of dried beef was paraded, from 
Marion's saddle-bags, with a loaf of Indian bread and 
a bottle of brandy. The wealthy reader may smile at 
this bill of fare ; but to me it was a feast indeed. For 
joy, like a cordial, had so raised my spirits, and re- 
mvigorated my system, that I fed like a thresher. 

I shall oever forget an expression which Marion 
let fall duiTtig tnsx repast, and which, as things have 
turned out, clearly shows what an intimate acquaint- 
ance he had with human nature. I happened to say 
that I was afraid " our happy days were all gone." 

" Pshaw, Horry," he replied, " don't give way to 
such idle fears. Our happy days are not all gone. On 
the contraiy, the victor}'- is still sure. The enemy, it 
is true, have all the trumps in their hands, and if 
they had but spirit to play a generous game^ would 
certainly ruin us. But they have no idea of that 
game j but will treat the people cruelly. And tb*»« 
one thing will ruin them, and save Amer'ica." 



GEN. rnANCIS MARION. 85 

«1 pray God," said I, "it may be so.'* 
** Well, don't be afraid," replied he, '■'■ you xvitl as* 
huredly see it^ 

Hiiving despatched our simple dinner, we mounted 
again and pursued our journey, but with feelings so 
different from what I had before this meeting, as made 
me more sensible than ever what a divine thing friend 
ship is. And well indeed it was for us that our hearts 
were so rich in friendships for our pockets were as 
bare of gold and silver as if there were no such metala 
on earth. And but for carrying a knife, or a horse- 
fleam, or a gun-flint, we had no more use for a pocket 
than a Highlander has for a knee-buckle. As to hard 
money, we had not seen a dollar for years ; and of old 
continental, bad as it was, we had received but little, 
and that little was gone away like a flash ; as the rea- 
der may well suppose, when he comes to learn, that 
a bottle of rum would sweep fifty dollars. 

And so here were two continental colonels of u?i, 
just started on a journey of several hundred miles, 
without a cent in pocket ! But though poor in gold, 
we were rich in faith. Burning patriots oui'selves, we 
had counted on it as a certainty, that every body we 
met, out of reach of the British, were as fiery as we, 
and that the first sight of our uniforms would com- 
mand smiling countenances, and hot suppers, and 
downy beds, and mint slings : and in short, every thing 
that our hearts could wish. But, alas and alack the 
mistake 1 For instead of being smiled on every where 
along the road as the champions-of liberty, we W'ere 
often grinned at as if we had been horse thieves. In 
place of being hailed with benedictions, we were fre- 
quently in danger from the brick bats ; and in lieu of 
hot dinners and suppers, we were actually on the point 
of .starving, both we and our horses ! For in conse- 
quence of candidly telling the publicans that " xve had 
nothing to pciy^ they as candidly declared, '^^they had 
riuthmg to give;'''' and that ^'' those that had no ynoncf 
H2 



86 THE LIFE OF 

had no busrness to travel.'''^ At length we came tv tiio 
resolution to say nothing about our poverty^ but^ after 
getting such things as we wanted, to give owv due hills* 
In this we felt ourselves perfectly warranted ; for ww 
had, both of us, thank God, very sufficient estates; 
and besides, turning out, as we did, to fight for our 
country, we thought we had, even by sacred precept, 
a very fair claim on that country for a little food. 

I remember, one evening, after dark, we reached a 
tavern, the owner of which at first seemed very fond 
of accommodating us. But as soon as a lighted wood 
torch had given him a glimpse of our regimentalS| 
the rogue began to hem and ha, to tell us of a 7;n^VjYi/ 
fine tavern about five miles further on. 

We begged hirn to recollect that it was night, and 
also very rainy, and as dark as pitch. 

" Oh /" quoth he, ^' the road is riiightif plain ; you 
can'^t miss your zvay^ 

" But consider, sir, we arc strangers." 

" Oh ! I never liked strangers in all my life.'*'' 

*' But, sir, we are your countrymen, American offi- 
cers, going to the north for men to fight your battles." 

" Oh ! I wants nobody to fight my battles ; king 
George is good enough for mc." 

" But, sir, we have travelled all day long without 
a mouthful for ourselves or horses." 

To this also the brute was preparing some fit an- 
swer, when his wife, who appeared to be a very gen- 
teel woman, with a couple of charming girls, her 
daughters, ran out and declared that *^ take us in he 
could, and should, that he should j and that he might as 
well consent at first, for they M'"ould not be said nav." 

Even against all this, he stood out for some time; 
'v":ll at length his M'ife reminded him, that though the 
British were carrying every thing before them in 
South Carolina, yet that Washington was still in the 
field, and the issue of the war unknown ; and that at 
ap""" rate it was irood tn hn':^*^ n friend at. court. 



Page 80, 




7%c Author and Marion expostulating zvtifi tiit, 
Innkeeper, 






/ 



6EN. FRANCIS MARION. 8. 

On this he came to a pause ; and at length reluc 
Untly drawled out, " Well — I suppose — you mast — 
come — in." 

I have related this story, partly to show what a sa- 
vage man would be without that softening, polishing 
friend, a good wife. 

Observing that we were wet and cold, this amiable 
woman and her daughters soon had kindled up for us a 
fine sparkling fire, to which their own sweetly smiling 
looks gave tenfold cheerfulness and comfort. And 
while the husband went poking about the house, si- 
lent and surly as an ill-natured slave, the ladies dis- 
played towards us the most endearing attentions. The 
mother brought out from her closet a bottle of nice 
family cordial, to warm and cheer us ; while the girls 
presented basins of water and towels, that we might 
wash and refresh ourselves after our fatigue. And 
all these seasonable hospitalities they did, not with 
that ungracious silence and reserve, which so often 
depress the traveller's spirits, but with the charming 
alacrity of daughters or sisters, so sweetening every 
thing with smiles and sprightly chat as almost made 
us feel ourselves at home. 

As with deep struck thought, I compared our pre- 
sent happy condition with that a few minutes before; 
benighted^ wet and wearij^ I could not help exclaim 
iiig, ••' O my God ! what pity it is that among so many 
labours which poor rtiortals take under the sun, they 
do not labour more for that which alone deserves their 
care. I mean that lovc^ which at once diffuses and 
enjoys all the happiness both of earth and heaven.'* 

At supper, the poor creature of a husband strove 
very hard to draw Marion into a disput;^, about what 
he was pleased to call our *' rebellion." I expect- 
ed to have heard him lashed very severely for such 
brutality; for few men ever excelled Marion in the 
retort abrupt. But every time the subject was intro- 
duced, he contrived very handsomely to waive it,by 



88 THE LIFE OF 

some pretty turn to the ladies, which happily relieved 
their terrors, and gave a fresh spring to general and 
sprightly conversation. 

As our excellent hostess and her fair daughters 
were about to retire, we bade them good nighty and 
also adieu, telling them that we meant to ride very \ 
early in the morning. To this they stoutly objected; \ 
urging that, from our fatigue and fasting, we Ought to 
pass a day or two with them, and refresh ourselves* 
But if we could not do this, we must at any rate stay 
and give them the pleasure of our company at break- 
fast. 

When we retired to our chamber, I asked Marion 
why he had not given that brute, our landlord, a 
proper set down. 

"' I am surprised at you, Horry," he replied ; "when 
you see that your fellow man is wretched, can't you 
give him quarter ? You must have observed, ever 
since we darkened his door, that with spleen andtory- 
ism, this poor gentleman is in the condition of him in 
the parable, who was possessed of seven de'oils. Since 
we have not the power to cast them out, let us not 
torment him before his time. Besides, this excellent 
v/oman his wife; these charming ^\r\s.\\\s> daughters. 
They love him, no doubt, and therefore, to us, at 
least, he ought to be sacred, because surrounded by 
their affections." 

The next morning while breakfast was preparing, 
the churl renewed his hostilities, by telling us, with 
a malignant pleasure in his face, that he and his 
neighbours were making ready to go to South Caro- 
lina for negroes. 

" For negroes !" replied Marion; "pray sir, what 
do you mean by that." 

" Why, sir," returned he, " South Carolina is now 
all one as conquered by the British, and why may we 
not go and pick up what negroes we can ? They 
would help me in my corn-field yonder." 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 89 

Marion asked hiirj whether, if he were to find hh 
nfg^oes, he would tliink it right to take them ? 

** To be sure I would," answered he. " You great 
men who choose to fight against your king, are all 
now running away. And why may I not go and catch 
your negroes as well as any body else ?" 

" My God !" replied Marion, with a deep sigh, 
" what will this world come to ?" and turned the con 
versation. 

Soon as breakfast was over, we took leave of this 
most unequally yoked couple and their lovely daugh- 
ters, and continued our journey. We had not got fai 
from the house when Marion's servant rode up, and, 
with a very smirking face, told his master that he be- 
lieved the gentle v/oman where we stayed last night, 
must be a monstrous Jine lady I Marion asked him 
why he thought so. " Why, sir," replied he, ^^ she 
not only made me almost burst myself with eating 
and drinking, and all of the very best, but she has 
gone and filled vaj portmanteau too, filled it up chock 
full, sir ! A fine ham of bacon, sir, and a pair of 
roasted fov/ls, with two bottles of brandy, and a mat- 
ter ot a peck of biscuU." 

" God bless the de;'ir lady !" we both exclaimed at 
tlie same moment. And I trust God did bless her. 
For indeed to us shn was a kind angel, who not only 
refreshed our bodies, but still more, feasted our souls. 

And though e'ght and twenty/ long years have 
rolled avv^ay sinc« that time, I can still see that angel 
smile which brii^htened on her face towards us, and 
the memory of which springs a joy in my heart be- 
yond what tbf memoiy of his m.oney bags ever gave 
I to the miser. 

On the evening of the same day that we left this 
charming family, (I mean the fairer part of it) we 
reached the house of colonel Thatcher, one of the no- 
blest whigs in North Carolina. Kis eyes seemed as 
I tiiough they would never lire in gazing on our regi 



90 THE LIFE OF 

mentals. We soon gave him the history of our tra- 
vels through his native state, and of the very uncivil 
manner in which his countrymen had treated us. He 
smiled, and bid us be thankful, for that it was en- 
tirely of God's mercy that we had come off so xvell. 
'* Those people," continued he, " are mere Hotten- 
tots; a set of unenlightened miserable tories, who 
know nothing of the grounds of the war ; nothing of 
the rights and blessings we are contending for ; nor 
of the corruptions and cruelties of the British minis^ 
try; and are therefore just as ready to fall into theii 
destructive jaws, as young cat-birds are to run into 
the mouth cf a rattle-snake." 



CHAPTER XL 



Glorious neivs — a brave army of continentals coming 
up — Marion and the author hasten to meet them at 
Roanoke — -fortunately get introduced to the baron dt 
Kalb — polite reception by that amiable offcer — ciiri-' 
ous and interesting conversation. 

AFTER spending two days of very welcome re- 
pose with the elegant colonel Thatcher, we took leave 
and set out for Hillsborough, where we met general 
Huger and colonel W. White, of (he horse, who told 
us the glorious news, that " Washington had sent on 
a gallant detachment of continentals, who were now 
in fall march to aid South Carolina." 

Our hearts leaped for joy at the news. So great 
was our impatience to see what our hearts had so long 
and so fondly dwelt on, a?! army of friends., thwi we 
could not wait until they came up, but hurried olf in 
stantly to meet them at Roanoke, where it was said 
they were crossing. On reaching the river, we found 
that they had all got over, and had just formed their 
line of march. O ! how lovely is the sight of friends 
n the day of our danger! We hBve had many niili- 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION 91 

tar> corps, but none had ever interested us like this. 
In tihinihg regimentals and glittering arms, they 
moved before the eye of the glowing fancy like a host 
of heroes. 

Thrice happy for man, that a veil, dark as the grave, 
is thrown over future events ! For how could we^ 
who had seen one nne army butchered at Savannah 
and another captured at Charleston, have borne up 
under the dreadful prospect; of having this gallant 
armament also destroyed in a few days ! 

Soon as our first paroxysm of joy had a little sub- 
sided, we moved toward head quarters^ where we 
had the good fortune to fall in with our old friend Col. 
Semp, who appeared overjoyed to see us, and imme- 
diately offered to introduce us to the general. His ex- 
cellency Horatio Gates was the commander in chief 
but as he had not yet arrived, the command rested on 
that brave old German general, the baron de Kalb. 

It was to this officer that colonel Semp introduced 
us, and, as was usual with him, in very flattering 
terms ; styling us " continental colonels, and two of 
the wealthiest and most distinguished patriots of 
South Carolina !" 

I shall never forget what I felt when introduced 
to tins gentlemai]. He appeared to be rather elderly. 
Bat though the snow of winter was on his locks, h'S 
cheeks were still reddtsned over with the bloom or 
spring. His person was large and manly, above ih^. 
common size, with great nerve and activity ; whii» 
his fine blue eyes expressed the mild radiance of in- 
telligence and goodness. 

He received us very politely, saying he was ginu to 
see us, " especially as we were the first Carolinians tii.rt 
he had seen ; which had not a little surprised him." 

Observing, I suppose, that we laboured undei ja- 
Iher too much of our national weakness, I mean mo- 
de!»ty, he kindly redoubled his attentions to ua, ami 
•joon succeeded in curing us of our reserve. 



..iiatt^' 



12 THE Lilt OF 

" I thought^" said he, " that British t5'^ranny would 
have sent great numbers of the Soiuh Carolinians to 
join our arms. But, so far from it, they ar** all, as 
we have been told, running to take British protec" 
tions. Surely they are not tired already of fighting 
for liberty." 

We told him the reason was very plain to us, who 
were inhabitants of that country, and knew very well 
the state of things there. 

" Aye," replied he, " well, what can the reason 
be?" 

" Why, sir," answered Marion, " the people of 
Carolina form, but two classes, the rich and the poor. 
The poor are generally very poor, because, not being 
necessary to the rich, who have slaves to do all their 
work, they get no employment from them. Being 
thus unsupported by the rich, they continue poor and 
low spirited. They seldom get money ; and indeed, 
what little they do get, is laid out in brandy to raise 
their spirits, and not on books and newspapers to get 
information. Hence they know nothing of the com- 
parative blessings of their ov/n country, nor of the 
great dangers which threattm it, and therefore crae 
nothing about it. As to the other class, the rich, 
\hii,y aic generally very nch^ and consequently afraid 
to stir, unless a fair chance offer, lest the British 
should burn their houses ana furniture, and carry oiF 
their negroes and stock. But permit me to assure 
yoa, sir, that though thus kept under by fear, thej 
will mortally hate the British, and will, I am coiiti 
dent, the moment they see an army of friends at their 
door, lly to their standard, like a generous pack tp 
he sound of the horn that calls them to the chase of 

hated wolf." 

The baron de Kalb smiled, and said he hoped it 
would be found so. 

'^ No doubt of it at all sir," replied Marion. 

I'fje baron Uien iaviled as to dine wiUi him, but 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. M 

added, smiling, that he hoped we had good military 
stomachs that could relish and digest plain fai*e, 
which was all he could promise us, and perhaps 
hardly enough of that. 

On sitting down to table, we found that his predic= 
tion about the bill of fare, was most unwelcomely 
ti'ue. Our dinner was just half a side of a miserably 
poor hog, as miserably cooked ; and in such small 
quantity, that before we were done there was nothing 
of it left but a rasher, for good manners'* sake. And 
as to bread, there was not even a hoe-cake I It is true 
that, by way of substitute, we had a trencher or two 
of sweet potatoes paraded. Our drink was admirably 
suited to the dinner ; apple brandy with river water, 

God forbid that I should be unmindful of his fa- 
vours ! For well do I know that the least of them is 
much better than the best of us deserv'e On the con- 
trary, I Tiiention it rather as a compliment to his 
heavenly bounty, which is wont to spread our tables 
%vith so many dainties, as to cause even roast pigs 
and sweet potatoes to pass for a sorry meal. 

Soon as dinner was* over, all of us who could pa- 
rade a segar or a pipe, began to comfort our olfacto- 
ries with a puff, not forgetting our brandy the while; 
,so that by the time we had got well entrenched in 
clouds of fragrant kite-foot, we were in admirable cue 
for a dish of chat. De Kalb led the way ; and, as 
nearly as I can recollect, in the following words. 

" Colonel Marion," said he, pressing the tobacco 
in his pipe at the same time," can you answer me one 
question V' 

" Most gladly, general, and a thousand if I can !" 

" Thank you, colonel, but one will do." 

" Be pleased then, sir, to say on." 

" Well, colonel, can you tell me how old I am ?'* 

" That's a tough question, general." 

" Tou^h^ colonel ! pray how do you make that out ?" 
. " Why, sir, there is a strange January and May sort 



94 THE LIFE OF 

of contrast between your locks and your looks that 
quite confuses me. By your locks you seem to be in 
tlie winter, by your looks in the summer of your days." 

" Well but, colonel, striking the balance between 
ll\e two, whereabouts do you take me to be ?" 

" Why, sir, in the spring and prime of life ; abou 
foit}'." ' 

" Good heavens, ycr/y /" 

" Yes, sir, that's the mark ; there or thereabouts.* 

" What ! no more V 

" No, sir, not a day more ; not an hour.** 

** Upon honour?" 

" Yes, sir, upon honour ; upon a soldier's honour/' 

"Ha ! — ha ! — ha ! — Well, colonel, I would not foi 
a thousand guineas that your riflemen shot as wide 
off the mark a€ you guess. The British would not 
dread them as they do. Forty years old, indeed! why 
what will you say, colonel, when I tell you that i 
have been two and forty years a soldier." 

Here we all exclaimed, " Impossible, general ! im- 
possible." 

" I ask your pardon, gentlemen," replied he, " it 
is not at all impossible, but very certain. Very cer- 
tain that I have been two and forty years a soldier in 
the service of the king of France ;" 

" O wonderful ! two and forty }'ears ! Well then, 
at that rate, and pray how old, general, may you take 
yourself to be ?" 

"Why, gentlemen," replied he, " man and boy, I 
am now about sixty-three." 

" Good heaven ! sixty-three I and yet such bloom, 
such flesh and Wood !" 

" If you are. so surprised, gentlemen, at my hoki 
at sixty-three^ what would you have thought had you 
seen my father at eighty-seven." 

" Your father, general ! he cannot be alive yet 



sure." 



''^ Alive! yes, thank God, and aVwe like to be, I 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 95 

hope, f >r many a good year to come yet. Now, gen- 
tlemen, let me tell you a little story of my father. The 
very Christmas before I sailed for America, I went 
to see him. It was three hundred miles, at least, from 
Paris. On arriving at the house I found my dear old 
mother at her wheel, in her eighty-third year, mind 
gentlemen ! ! spinning very gaily, while one of her 
great ^randaughters carded the wool and sung a 
hymn for her. Soon as the first transport of meeting 
was over, I eagerly asked for my father. ' Do not 
be uneasy, my son,' said she, *your father is only 
gone to the woods with his three little great grand* 
children, to cut some fuel for the fire, and they will 
all be here presently, I'll be bound !' And so it 
proved ; for in a very short time I heard them coming 
along. My father was the foremost, with his axe under 
his arm, and a stout billet on his shoulder ; and the 
children, each with his little load, staggering along, 
and prattling to my father with all their might. Be 
assured, gentlemen, that this was a most delicious 
moment to me. Thus after a long absence, to meet a 
beloved father, not only alive, but in health and dear 
domestic happiness above the lot of kings : also to see 
the two extremes of human life, youth and age, thus 
sweetly meeting and mingling in that cordial love, 
which turns the cottage into a paradise." 

In telling this little story of his aged father and hia 
young relatives, the generv^Ps fine countenance caught 
an animation which perfectly charmed us all. 

The eyes of Marion sparkled v/ith pleasure. " Ge- 
neral,'' said he, "the picture which you have given 
us of your father, and his little great grandchildren, 
though short, is extremely interesting and delightful. 
It confirms me in an opinion which I have long en- 
tertained, which is, that there is more happiness in 
low life than in high life ; in a cottage than in a castle. 
Pray give us, general, your opinion of that matter.'* 
" Why," replied De Kalb, " this opinion of voufr, 
12 



06 THE LIFE OF 

colonel, is not a novel one by any m<*ana. It was the 
opinion of Rousseau, Fenelon, and of many other great 
men, and elegant writers. But notwithstanding such 
high authority, I must still beg leave to be a dissentei-. 
I have seen so many people happy and also unhappy, 
both in cottages and castles, that I cannot but con- 
clude, that happiness does not belong, peculiarly, to 
either condition, but depends on something very dif- 
ferent from, and infmitely superior to both." 

We eagerly asked what he alluded to. 

" Why, gentlemen," replied he, " since you have 
been so polite as to ask my opinion, I will as frankly 
give it, though I am afraid it will seem very odd, es- 
pecially coming from a soldier. Plowever, be that as 
It may, my opinion you have asked, and my opinion 
you shall have ; which is, that religion is the only 
thing to make a man happy in cottages or courts." 

The young officers began to stare. 

Gathering from their looks, that some of the com 
pany did not relish this kind of philosophy, he quick- 
ly thus resumed his speech. 

" Pardon ! gentlemen, I beg pardon ! I must not be 
misunderstood. By i-eligion^ I don^t mean pnesU 
craft, I don't mean that superstitious grimace ; that 
rolling up of white eyes, and spreading of sanctified 
palms ; with ' disjig'ured faces and lorig prayers^ and 
all the rest of that holy trumpery^ which, so far from 
making people cheerful, tends but to throw them into 
the dumps. But I mean, by religion^ that divine ef- 
fort of tlie soul, which rises and embraces the great 
author of its being with. Ji Hal ardour^ and walks and 
converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered 
father. Now gentlemen, I would ask, all prejudice 
apart ^Vi'h-iXt is there can so exalt the mind and gladden 
the heart, ai^ this high friendship with heaven, and 
those immortal hopes that spring from religion ?" 

Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpa^ 
dIv convicted by the truth of the general's argument 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 97 

§inaft]y called out — '-'• WtU but, general, don't you 
think wc caa do pretty wsU here in camp^ without 
religion ^'^ 

" What !*' replied Dt Kalb," would you give it all 
up to the priests V 

" Yes, to be sure I wculd," said the young officer, 
*' for I am for every man\ following his own trade, 
general. They are priests, ^nd we are soldiers. So 
let them do ail tne prayin^^ and we will do all the 

" Why, as to the fighting part,*' icjoined De Kalb, 
* I hi) ve no objection to doing all th*it for the priests, 
especially as their profession does not allow them to 
fight for themselves. But as to giving them up all 
the litfvotion^ I confess I am not so liberal. No I no! 
gentlemen, charity begins at home : and I am not 
for parting with pleasure so easily." 

"Pleasure!" replied the young officer with % 
sneer. 

" Yes, sir, pleasvre^'* returned De Kalb. "Accord* 
ing to my creed, sir, piety and pleasure are synony 
mous terms; and I should just as so»)n think of living 
ph)'sically, without bread, as of Uving pleasantly, 
without religion. For what is religit^n, as I said be* 
fore, but ifABiTUAL FRIENDSHIP WITH GoD ? And 
what can the heart conceive so delightful ? Or what 
can so gratify it in all its best and strongest desires ? 
For example, gentlemen, we are all fond of honour 
I, for my part, am fond of the friendship of the king 
of France. You glor}^ in the friendship of the great 
Washington. Then what must be the glory of him 
who is in friendship with God ? Again, gentlemen, 
we are all born to love, to admire, to adore. If a 
man have no love, he is gloomy. If he love a worth- 
less object, he is mortified. But if he love a truly 
worthy object, his face shines, his eyes sparkle, hii 
voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of i, 

cheerfulness. And as this happy feeling must, in the T 



98 THE LIFE OF 

nature of things, keep pace with the excellence of the 
object that is beloved, then what must be the cheerful- 
ness of him who loves the greatest, best, an'd loveliest 
of all beings, whose eternal perfections and goodness 
can for ever make him happier than heart can ask or 
think ? 

" In a word, gentlemen, though I am a soldier, and 
soldiers you know are seldom enthusiasts in this way, 
yet I verily believe, as I said before, that a man of 
enlightened and fervent piety must be infinitely hap- 
pier in a cottage, than an irreligious emperor in hia 
palace." 

In the height of this extraordinary^ conversation, 
an officer stepped in and announced the arrival of 
general Gates. 

And here, as I have in this chapter given the reader 
what the jockies call ti pretty long- heat,, I beg leave to 
order a halt and allow him a little time to breathe. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Gen. Gates — bo7i mot of British general Lee — how an 
army ought not to march — De Kalb prophecies—^ 
chickens counted before they are hatched^ a/ias^ Ma* 
rion and the author sent by Gen. Gates to prevent 
the escape of CormvalUs.^ before he had run — the 
British and A??:e?'2can armies meet — Gates and his 
militia-men leave De Kalb :n the lurch — his gallant 
behaviour^ and glorious death. 

W HEN a poor fellow is going down hill, it is but 
too common, they say, for every body to give him a 
kick. 

** Let clo^ delight to bark and bite, 
" For heaven hath made them so." 

But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, thai 
p.othing of this vilf^ spirit suggests a syllable of wimt 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 99 

I now write of the unfortunate general Gates. On 
the contrary, I feel an ardent wish to speak hanrl- 
somely of him ; and in one view of him I can so speak. 
As a gentleman, few camps or courts ever produced 
his superior. But though a perfect Chesterfield at 
court, in camp he was certainly but a Paris. 'Tis 
true, at Saratoga he got his temples stuck round with 
laurels as th'ck as a May-day queen with gaud}' flow- 
ers. And though the greater part of t his was certain- 
ly the gallant workmanship of Arnold and Morgan, 
yet did it so hoist general Gates in the opinion of the 
nation, that many of his dear friends, with a prudent 
regard, no douht, to their own clearer selves, had the 
courage to bring him forward on the military turf 
and run him for the generalissimoship against the 
great Washington. But though they were not able to 
prosper him in this mad attempt, yet they so far sue- 
ceedcd as to get him the command of the army of 
Carolina, where his short and calamitous career soon 
caused every good patriot to thank God for continu- 
ing to his servant Washington the command of the 
American armies. 

On his way from the northern states, general 
Gates passed through Fredericksburg, where he fell 
in with general Charles Lee, who, in his frank man- 
ner, asked him where he was going. 

"W^hy, to take Cornwallis." 

^' I am afraid," quoth Lee, " you will find him a 
tough piece of English beef." 

'' Tough, sir," replied Gates ; ^ tough ! then begaa 
rU tender him. I'll make />i/oo of him, sir, in three 
hours after I set eyes upon him." 

"Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well 
then send for me, and I will go and help you to eat 
him." 

Gates smiled; and bidding him adieu, rode off. 
L<ie bawled after him,*' Take care^ Gates ! take care! 



100 THE LIFE OF 

or your northern laurels will degenerate into south- 
ern willows.'^ 

The truth is, though general Lee was extremely 
splenetic, other than which, such a miserable old ba- 
chelor and infidel covXd hardly be, yet he certainly had 
a knack of telling people's fortunes. By virtue of this 
faculty, he presently discovered that general Gates 
was no Fabius ; but on the contrary, too much inclin 
ed to the fatal rashness of his unfortunate colleague. 

And so it turned out. For, from the moment he 
joined the army, he appeared to act like one who 
thought of nothing but to have it proclaimed of him 
in all the newspapers on the continent, that in so many 
days, hours, minutes, and seconds, he flew from Phi* 
ladelphia to South Carolina, saw^ fi^^S'^^f '^^^ ^^^^ 
quertd Comwallis ; and flev/ back again with the tro-^ 
phies of a second British army vanquished. Instead 
of moving on as old De Kalb had done, with a pru- 
dent regard to the heakh and refreshment of the 
troops, he, Jehu like, drove them on without regard 
to either. He would not take the lower road, as De 
Kalb earnestly adv'sed, through a rich and plentiful 
country. Oh no ; that was too round about ; would 
too long have delayed his promised glory. 

Like an eagle shaking his bold pinions in the clouds 
of his pride, he must dash down at once upon his prey; 
and so, for a near cut, take us through a phie barren^ 
sufficient to have starved a forlorn hope of caterpillars. 
I shall make no attempt to describe the sufferings of 
The army. For, admitting that I should not lack words, 
my reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at 
this season, when the old crop was gone, and the new 
not quite come in, what had we to expect, especially 
in such a miserable country, where many a family goes 
without dinner, unless the father can knock down a 
squirrel in the woods, or his pale sickly boy pick up a 
terrapin in the swamps ? We did, indeed, sometimes 
fall in with a little corn ; but dien, the poor, skinnv* 



GKN. FRANCIS MARION. 101 

fiun-l3urnl womeji, with long uncombed tresses, and 
shrivelled breasts hanging down, would run scream- 
ing to us, with tears in their eyes, declaring that if we 
took away their corn, they and their children nnusi 
pensh. Such times 1 never saw, and 1 pray Govi I 
may never see nor hear of again ; for, to this day, the 
bare thought of it depresses my spirits. But perhap 
I ought to think of it, and often too, that I may be th 
more thankful to him who never, but in that one m 
Rtance, permitted me to sutTer, except in thinking of it 

There was one case in particular which 1 shall 
never forget. Almost spent with fatigue and fasting, 
we halted one evening near the house of a man, whose 
plantation bespoke him a tolerably good liver. He met 
us with a countenance strongly marked with terror, 
and begged for God's sake we would not ruin him, for 
that he had a large family of children to maintain. 
We told him that we were soldiers lighting for the 
country, and that it would never do for us to starve. 
Understanding from this that we meant to forage upon 
him that night, he heaved a deep sigh, and turnnig 
hbout, went otf without saying another word. I must 
contess I could not help feeling very sensibly for him, 
especially when we saw his little white-headed chil- 
dren, in melancholy groups, peeping at us around the 
corners of the house. 

His young corn, which seemed to cover about ^(ty 
acres, was just in the prime, roasting ear state, and 
he had also a couple of beautiful orchards of peach 
and apple trees, loaded with young fi'uit. ScaT<:ely 
were our tents pitched, before the whole army, foot 
and horse, turned in to destroy. The trees were all 
^hre?hed in a trice : after which the soldiers fell, like 
ft herd of v/ild boars, upon the roasting ears, and the 
horses upon the blades and stalks, so that by morn- 
ing light there was no sign or symptom left that corn 
Irad ever grown there since the creation of the world. 
What became of the poor man ai) \ his children God 



i02 THE LIFE OF 

only knows, for by sunrise we were all under march' 
ing orilers again, bending for the south. 1 said all 
but I only meant all that were able. For numbers 
were knocked up every night by ag'ties, Muxes', and 
other maladies, brought on by excessive fatigue and 
lack of food. 

I once before observed how highly the baron de 
Kalb had been pleased to think of Marion and mys-tlf 
travelling so far to meet him. His liking for us grew 
so fast, that we had not been with him moie than two 
days, before he appointed us his supernumerary aids 
We were, of course, much in his company, and en 
trusted, I believe, with every thought of his bosom 
that related to the good of the army. He made no 
scruple to tell us how utterly unmilitary those pro- 
ceedings were ; and frequently foretold the rum that 
would ensue. 

" Here," said he, '' we are hurrying to attack an 
enemy, who, if they but knew our condition, would 
long for nothing so much as our arrival. JVe^ two- 
thirds at least, raw militia ; thn/^ all regulars. We, 
fatigued ; they, fresh. We, feeble and faint through 
;ong fasting; they, from high keeping, as strong and 
fierce as game cocks or butchers' bull dogs. It does 
not signify, gentlemen: it is all over with us; our 
army is lost as sure as ever it comes into contact 
with the British. I have hinted these things more 
than once to general Gates, but he is an officer who 
will take no counsel but his own." 

The truth is, general Gates was one of that crazy- 
brained quality, to whom it is a misfortune to be 
fortunate. The least d?-u}}i of success woukl intoxi- 
cate and make him Jho/ hardij. He could never bring 
himself to believe, as he used to say, that " lord 
Cornwallis would dare to look him in the face." 

So confident, indeed, was he of victory, that on the 
morning before the fatal action, he ordered Marion 
and myself to hasten on to Santee river, and destroy 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. loa 

every scozv, boat, or caiioe^ that could assist an En^ 
lishmpn in his flight to Charleston ! 

Immediately on receiving orders, we waited on 
the good old De Kalb to take leave ; and also to as 
sure him of our deep regret at parting with him. 

"It is with equal regret, my dear sirs," said he 
^^ that I part with you, because I feel a presentimei^ 
that we part to meet no more." 

We told him we hoped better things. 

" Oh no !" replied he, " it is impossible. War is a 
kind of game, and has its jixed rules ^ whereby, when 
we are well acquainted with them, we can pretty cor 
rectly tell how the trial will go. To-morrow it seems, 
the die is to be cast, and in my judgment, without 
the least chance on our side. The militia will, I sup- 
pose, as usual, play the back-^game^ that is, get out of 
the scrape as fast as their legs can carry them. Bui 
that, you know, won't do for me. I am an old soldier 
and cannot run : and I believe I have with me some 
brave fellows that will stand by me to the last. So 
that, wheii you hear of our battle, you will probably 
hear that your old friend De Kalb is at rest." 

I do not know that I was ever more affected in my 
life. I looked at Marion and saw that his eyes were 
watery. De Kalb saw it too, and taking us by th* 
hand, with a firm tone, and animated look, said, " No * 
Ho ! gentlemen ; no emotions for me but those of con- 
gratulation. I am happy. To die is the irreversible 
decree of him who made us. Then what joy to be 
able to meet his decree without dismay ! This, thanlr 
God, is my case. The happiness of man is my wish 
that happiness I deem inconsistent with slavery.-^ 
ylnd to avert sc\ great an evil from an innocent peo 
pie, I will gladly meet the British to-morrow, at any 
odds whatever." 

As he spoke this, I saw a something in his eye» 
^vhich at once demonstrated the divinity of virtue 
siiid the immortality of the soul 
K 



104 THE LIFE OF 

With sorrowful hearts we then left him, and witn 
feelings which I shall never forget, while memory 
maintains her place in this my aged brain. 

" Oh my God !" said Marion, as we rode off," what 
a difference does education make between man and 
man ! Enlightened b} her sacred ray, see here is the 
native of a distant country, come to fight for oui 
liberty and happiness, while many of our own people, 
for iack of education^ are actually aiding the Britsh 
to heap chains and curses upon themselves and chil- 
dren." 

It was on the morning of August the 15th, 1780, 
that we left the army in a good position near Ruge- 
fey's mills, twelve miles from Camden, where the 
enemy lay. About ten o'clock that night orders were 
given to march to surprise the enemy, who had at 
the same time commenced their march, to surprise 
the Americans. To their mutual astonishment, the 
advance of the two armies met about two o'clock, and 
began to fire on each other. The firing, however, was 
soon discontinued by both parties, who appeared very 
willing to leave the matter to be d-ecided by daylight. 
A council of war was called : in which De Kalb ad- 
vised I hat the army should fall back to Rugeley's mills, 
and there, in a good positiop, vvait to be attacked. — 
But Gates not onlv rejected this excellent counsel. 
but threw out suspicions that it originated from fear^ 
Upon this, the brave old De Kalb called to his ser^ 
vant to take his horse, and leaping on the grourid 
place^'l himself at the head of his command, on foot 
To this indecent expression of general Gates, he also 
retorted with considerable warmth, '^ Well, sir, a fe\\ 
hours perhaps will let us see who are the brave." 

It should be recorded for the benefit of our officers, 
many of whose laurels have been blasted by the fumes 
of brandy, that general Gates was rather too fond of 
his nocturnal glass. 

" I wonder where we shall dine to-morrow ?" saiJ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 105 

ime of his officers, as, in the dark, they sat on their 
sleepy horses, waiting for the day. 

"Dine, sir!" replied the confident Gates, "why 
at Camden, sir, to be sure. Begad ! I would not give 
a pinch of snuff, sir, to be insured a beef-steak to-mor 
row in Camden, and lord Cornwallis at my table." 

Presently day appeared ; and, as the dawning light 
increased, the frighted militia began to discover the 
woods reddening over like crimson with the long ex- 
tended lines of the British army, which soon, with 
rattling drums and thundering cannon, came rushing 
on to the charge. The militia, scarcely waiting to 
give them a distant fire, broke and fled in the utmost 
precipitation. Whereupon Gates clapped spurs to 
his horse, and pushed hard after them, as he said, " to 
bring the rascals back." • But he took care never to 
bring himself back, nor indeed to stop until he had 
fairly reached Charlotte, eighty miles from the field 
of battle. I remember it was common to talk in those 
days, that he killed three horses in his flight. 

Gates and the militia, composing two-thirds of the 
army, having thus shamefully taken themselves off, 
the brave old De Kalb, and his handful of continen- 
tals, were left alone to try the fortune of the day. And 
never did men display a more determined valour ! 
For though outnumbered more than ttuo to one, they 
sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force, for 
upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweep- 
mg cannon and muskets were employed by both sides, 
until the contending legions were nearly mixed. Then 
quitting this slower mode of slaughter, with rage- 
blackened faces and fiery eyeballs, they plunge for- 
ward on each other, to the swifter vengeance of the 
bayonet. Far and wide the woods resound with the 
clang of steel, while the red reeking weapons, like 
stings of infernal serpents, are seen piercing the bo- 
dies of the combatants. Some, on receiving the fata* 
stab, let drop their useless arms, and with dying fin 



106 THE LIFE OF 

gers clasped the hostile steel that's cold in their bo a 
els. Others, faintly crying out, " O God I am slain !" 
sank pale, quivering to the ground, while the vital 
current gushed in hissing streams from their bursted 
bosoms. Officers, as well as men, now mingle in the 
uproaring strife, and snatching the weapons of the 
slain, swell the horrid carnage. Glorying in his con- 
tinentals, the brave De Kalb towers before them, like 
a pillar of fire. His burning face is like a red star, 
guiding their destructive course ; his voic^, as the 
horn that kindles the young pack in the chase of blood, 
A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with 
a fixed bayonet. De Kalb parries the furious blow, 
and plunges his sword in the Briton's breast ; then, 
seizing his falling arms, he deals death around him 
on the crowding foe.' Loud rise the shouts of the 
Americans ; but louder still the shouts of the more 
numerous enemy. The battle burns anew along all 
the fierce conflicting line. There, the distant Corn- 
wallis pushes on his fresh regiments, like red clouds, 
bursting in thunder on the Americans ; and here, con- 
densing his diminished legions, the brave De Kalb 
still maintains the unequal contest. But, alas ! what 
can valour do against equal valour, aided by such fear- 
ful odds ? The sons of freedom bleed on eyery side. 
With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of his 
heroes; soon himself to fall. For, as with a face all 
inflamed in the fight, he bends forward animating hia 
men, he receives eleven wounds ! Fainting with loss 
of blood, he falls to the ground. Several brave men^ 
Britons and Americans, were killed over him, as they 
furiously strove to destroy or to defend. In the midst 
of the clashing bayonets, his only surviving aid, Mon- 
sier du Buyson, ran to him, and stretching his arms 
over the fallen hero, called out, " Save the baron de 
Kalb ! Save the baron de Kalb !" The British officers 
interposed, and prevented his immediate destruction. 
It has been said that lord Cornwallis was so stn»«'k 



G£N. FRANCIS MARION. 107 

with the braverj' of De Kalb, that he generously au- 
perinte^nded while his wounds were dressed, by his 
own surgeons. It has also been said, that he appoint 
ed him to be bui ied with the honours of war. British 
oilicers have been often known to do such noble 
deeds, but that lord Cornwallis was capable of acting 
so honourably, is doubtful. 

De Kalb died as he had lived, the unconquered 
friend of liberty. For, being kindly condoled with 
by a British officer for his misfortune^ he replied, '* I 
thank you, sir, for your generous sympathy ; but I die 
the death I always prayed for ; the death of a soldier 
fighting for the rights of man." 

His last moments were spent in dictating a letter 
to a friend concerning his continentals, of whom he 
said, he " had no words that could sufficiently express 
his love, and his admiration of«their valour." He sur • 
vived the action bvit a few hours, and was buried in 
the plains of Camden, near which his last battle was 
fought. 

When the great Washington, many years after- 
wards, came on a visit to Camden, he eagerly in- 
quired for the grave of De Kalb. It was shown to 
him. After looking on it a while, w^ith a countenance 
marked with thought, he breathed a deep sigh, and 
exclaimed — " So, there lies the brave De Kalb ; the 
generous stranger, who came from a distant land, to 
fight our battles, and to water, with his blood, the 
tree of our liberty. Would to God he had lived to 
share with us its fruits !" 

Congress ordered hiin a monument. But the friend 
of St. Tammany still sleeps " without his fame." I 
have seen the place of his rest. It was the lowest 
spot of the plain. No sculptured warrior mourned 
at his low-laid head; no cypress decked his ^^<?/. But 
the tall corn stood in darkening ranks around him, 
and seemed to shake their green leaves with joy over 
his narrow dwelling. 
K 2 



108 THE LIFE OF 

But the roar of his battle is not yet quite passed 
away, nor his ghastly wounds forgotten. The citizens 
of Camden have lately enclosed his grave, and placed 
on it a handsome marble, with an epitaph gratefully 
descriptive of his virtues and strv^ices, that the 
people of future days may, like Washington, heave 
the sigh when they read of " the generous strangei 
who came from a distant land to fight their battles, 
and to water, with his blood, the tree of their liber- 
ties." 

Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume, 
Where annual Ceres shades her hero's tomb. 



CHAPTER Xni. 

Marion and the authoY very busy in dtstroying the 
rice-makers'* boats on Santee^— first got the nexvs of 
the defeat of our armijj and death of the brave De 

• Kalb^ Marion addresses his followers — their gal 
lant reply, 

MARION and myself, as yet ignorant of the fate 
of the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very 
busily executing our boat-burning orders. Not con- 
tent with destroying the common scows and flats of 
the ferries, we went on to sweep the river of every 
skiff and canoe that v/e could lay hands on ; nay, had 
the harmless wonkopkins been able to feriy an Eng- 
lishman over the river, we should certainly have de 
clared war and hurled our firebrands among them, 

The reader may be sure we gained no gOv)d will bv 
our zeal in this affair ; for n was a serious thing to the 
planters : and their w^ratf waxed exceedingjv hot 
against us. Among that fl.-et of boats and flat's that 
perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two 
that belonged to my e3ccellent old uncle, colonel E. 
Horrr. Tne old g«ntJ^m»n couid hardlv believe his 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION 109 

iiegroes, when they told him that we were destroying 
his boats. However, to be satisfied of the matter, he 
mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to 
see. We had completely done for his scow, and were 
just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove 
m sight ; whereupon, clapping whip and spur to his 
horse, he came on as hard as he could drive. Soon as 
he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speak- 
ing trumpet, he began to bawl — " Hold ! hold ! for 
God's sake hold !" 

Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coals, and 
his mouth all in a lather, he roared out, " Why, what ? 
what ? what are you about here ?" 

" We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," 
said I. 

" Kidnap the d — I,'^ he replied. 
Then looking around, and seeing how completely 
we had shivered his fine new boat and scow, he ripped 
out again — " Well ! here is a pretty spot of work ! a 
pretty spot of work ! A branding new scow and boat, 
that cost me, only last spring, three hundred dollars ! 
every farthing of it ! and here now all cut to smash ! 
ruined ! not worth a chew of tobacco ! why ! did mor 
tal flesh ever see the like of this ' Breaking up oui 
boats! why, how are we to harve.'jc our rice?'* 

" Uncle,'* said I, " you had better think less of har 
vesting your rice, and more of cajching the musk 
rats," meaning the British. 

Here, darting at me an eye of inexpressible asto 
nishment and rage, he exclaimed — ^" Why, certainly 
the d — 1 is in the young man ! catch the British r 
>v hy, have you not heard that the British are carrying 
every thing before them ; have broke up our army ; 
cut the regulars to pieces; scattered the militia; and 
chased general Gates to Jericho, and to the d— 1 for 
what I care ?" 

" God forbid !" said Marion. 

"Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle ; 



110 THE LIFE OF 

" and if you had any interest in heaven, you ought 
to have made it sooner. It is too late now." 

" Great God !" returned Marion ; " and so our ar- 
my is lost!" 

"Yes," continued my uncle; "lost, as sure as a. 
gun : and that is not all ; for De Kalb is killed ; Sump- 
ter surprised and cut to pieces ; and Charleston illu- 
minated every night for joy." 

We could neither of us utter a word. 
Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around ^ 
on our men, about thirty in number, asked where ouif 
troops were. 

I told him those were all the troops we had. 
I thought the good old gentleman would have gone 
into fits. He rolled up his eyes to heaven ; smacked 
his hands together, and bringing them by a sudden 
jerk to his breast, with a shrill whistle exclaimed, 
" Mad ! — mad ! — the young fellow is as mad as a 
March hare — Well, I'll tell you what, nephew of mine, 
you may go about on the river, chopping the planters' 
boats at this rate, but I would not be in your coat, my 
lad, for your jacket, though it was stiif with gold." 
I asked him what he meant by that ? 
" Why, I mean," replied he, " that if you are not, 
all of you, knocked on the head in three hours, it will 
be a wonder." 

" Aye ! what makes you think so, uncle V said I, 
He answered : " You know my old waiting man, 
Tom, don't you ?" 

" To be sure I do." said I ; " I have known Tom 
ever since I was a boy, and should be confounded sor- 
ry to hear Tom prophesy any harm of me ; for I have 
always taken him to be a very true man of his word." 
" Yes, I'll warrant him," said my uncle ; " foi 
though Tom is a^negro, and as black as old Nick, yet, 
I would as soon take Tom's word as that of any white 
man in Carolina. Well, Tom, you know, has a wife 

at Mr. 's, as rank a tory as we have hereabouts. 

On coming home this morning, he shook liis nead and 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Ill 

said he was mighty 'fraid you and Col. Marion were 
in a bad box ; for, that he got it from one of the black 
waiters in the house, who overheard the talk, that 
there are three companies of tories now moulding 
their bullets, and making ready to cut you off." 
I looked at Marion and saw battle in his face. 
My uncle was about to invite us to the house ; but 
Marion interrupted him by saying, " This is no time 
, to thmk of visiting;" and turning to his trumpeter, 
I ordered him to wind his horn, which was instantly 
done. Then placing himself at our head, he dashed 
off at a charging lope ; v/ith equal speed we followed 
and soon lost sight of my uncle Horry. 
j - On reaching the woods, Marion ordered the troop 
I to halt and form ; when, with his usual modesty, he 
, thus addressed us : 

" Well, gentlemen, you see our situation ! widely 

different from what it once was. Yes, once we were 

a happ}' people ! Liberty shone upon our land, bright 

I as the sun that gilds yon fields ; while we and our 

I fathers rejoiced in its lovely beams, gay as the birds 

( that enliven pur forests. But, alas ! those golden days 

I are gone, and the cloud of war now hangs dark and 

* lowering over our heads. Our once peaceful land is 

' now filled with uproar and death. Foreign ruffians, 

' braving us up to our very firesides and altars, leave 

us no alternative but slavery or deach. Two gallant 

' armies have been marched to our assistance ; but, for 

I lack of competent commanders, both have been lost. 

I That under general Lincoln, after having beeu duped 

I and butchered at Savannah, was at last completely 

trapped at Charleston, And that under general Gates, 

I after having been imprudently overmarched, is now 

cut np at Camden. Thus are all our hopes from the 

north entirely at an end j and poor Carolina is left to 

shift for herself. A sad shift indeed, when not one 

in a thousand of her own children will rise to take her 

part ; but, on the contrary, are madly taking part with 

the enemy against her. And now, my countrymen, I 



IW THE LIFE OF 

want to know your minds. As to my own, that ha« 
long been made up. I consider my life as but a mO' 
ment. But I also consider, that to fill that moment 
with duty^ is my all. To guard my innocent country 
against the evils of slavery, seems now my greatest 
duty ; and, therefore, I am determined, that while I 
live, she Hb<>13 never be enslaved. She may come tc 
that wretched state for what I know, but my eye? 
shall never behold it. Never shall she clank hei 
chains in my ears, and pointing to the ignominious 
badge, exclaim, " it was your cowardice thai 

BROUGHT ME TO THIS." 

In answer to this we unanimously assured him, that 
those sentiments and resolutions were exactly oui* 
own : and that we were steadfastly determined to die 
with him, or conquer for our country. 

" Well then, my brave friends," said he, " draw 
your swords ! Now for a circle, emblematical of our 
eternal union ! and pointing your blades to heaven, 
the bright throne of Him who made us free, swear 
you will never be slaves of Britain." 

Which was all most devoutly done. 

Soon as this patriotic rite was performed, we all dis- 
mounted ; and taking our seats on the trunks of two 
fallen pines that lay conveniently parallel, we made 
our simple dinner of cold roots ; and for our beverage 
drank of the lucid stream that softly murmured by. 

The reader will please to keep in mind, that our 
troops consisted of but thirty mounted militia ; chief- 
y gentlemen volunteers, armed with muskets and 
swords, but. almost without powder and ball. How 
Marion came to be at the head of this littly party, it 
may be amusing to the reader to hear. 

Some short time before this date, 1779 — 80, when 
the war began to rage in South Carolina, a British 
oaptain by the name of ArdeisofF came up to George- 
town in an armed vessel, and filled the country with 
printed proclamations from lord Cornwallis, calling 
on the GOOD peofle of South Carolina to submit and 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 11 

I Cake royal protections ! ! Numbers of the ignorant and 
, pusillanimous sort closed with the offer. But the no- 
bler ones of the district, ( William sburgh) having no 
. notion of selling their liberties for a pig in a poke ^ 
J called a caucus of their own, from whom they select- 
, cd captain John James, and sent him down to mastei 
captain Ardeisoff, to know what he would be at. This 
captain James, by birth an Irishman, had rendered 
j himself so popular in the district, that he was made a 
] militia captain under the royal government. But in 
l75^ soon as he found that the ministry were deter- 
mined to tax the Americans, without allowing them 
' the common British right of representation^ he brave- 
ly threw up his commission, declaring that he would 
j( never serve a tyrant. Such was the gentleman 
chosen by the aforesaid liberty caucus, to go on the 
i embassy before mentioned. In the garb of a plain 
. planter, James presented himself before the haughty 
captain Ardeisoff, and politely asked " on what terms 
i himself and friends must submit ?" 
j " What terms, sir !" replied the angry Briton, 
( " what terms ! why, no other terms, you may be sure, 
j than unconditional submission." 
* " Well but, sir," answered James, very calmly, 
] •* are we not to be allowed to stay at home in peace 
j and quiet ?" 

'* In peace 'and quiet, indeed !" replied Ardeisoff, 

with a sarcastic grin ; " a pretty story, truly ! Stay 

at home in peace and quiet, heh ? No, no, sir, you 

.have all rebelled against your king; and if treated as 

jyou deserve, would now be dancing like dogs at the 

arms of the gallows. But his majesty is merciful, sir; 

land now that he has graciously pardoned you, he ex- 

jpects you will immediately take up arms and turn 

lout in support of his cause." 

I " You are very candid, sir," said James ; " and now 
[ hope you will not be displeased with me for being 
equally plain. Permit me, then, sir, to tell you that 



114 THE LIFE OF 

such terms will never go down with the gentlemen 
whom I have the honour to represent." 

" The gentlemen you have the honour to represent, 
you d — n — d rebel !" 

Vesuvius ! JEtna. ! and Strumbolo ! what are your 
fires and flames, compared with these that raged in 
the bosom of James, when he heard himself called a 
d — n — d rebel ! 

Instantly springing up, with eyes of lightning, he 
snatched up his chair, and, regardless of consequences, 
laid the audacious Ardeisoff sprawling on the floor; 
then flying to his horse, he mounted and made his 
escape. Learning from him, at his return, what they 
had to understand by Bntisk protections^ his gallant 
constituents came at once to the resolution to anji and 
fight till death, rather than hold life on such ignomini- 
ous terms. Immediately the whole force of the district, 
about two hundred, able to bear arms, were mustered 
and placed under captains William MXoltery, John 
M'Cawley, Henr)" Mowizon, and our brave captain 
James, who was appointed major and captain general 
of the whole. Feeling that distrust in themselves 
which is common with raw troops, and learnmg that 
the northern army was just entering South Carolina, 
they despatched a messenger to general Gates, to re- 
quest that he would send them an officer who had seen 
service. Governor Rutledgc, who happened at that 
time to be in camp, advised general Gates by all means 
to send Marion. Marion was accordingly sent ; but 
with orders, as we have seen, to destroy, on his route, 
all the boats on the Santee river, lest lord Cornwallis 
should make his escape. At the time of leaving ge- 
neral Gates, INIarion had but ten men with him ; but 
on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John 
James, with about twenty gallant gentlemen volun' 
feers, making his whole force about thirty. 

A slender force to be sure, to oppose to the tremen 
ilous powers which Marion had to encounter ! But, 
** the Lord is king, the victory is his !" and when he 



i-aoc 114 




Captain J jLmes, knoclang cIozdh Can'.un Ardirisijif 
with € Chair. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. :15 

pleases to give it to an oppressed people, he can make 
the few and feeble overcome the many and mighty 
As the brave major James may perhaps be men- 
tioned no more in this history, I must gratify the 
r-ader by informing him, that the noble major lost 
nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of 
man. He lived to see CornVvallis, Tarleton, and Raw- 
don, laid as low as the insolent Ardf'isofF; and after 
enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the plea- 
sant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to 
rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in 
his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, 
who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of 
his native state. 



CHAPTER XIV, 



Carolina apparently lost — Marion almost alone, keeps 
the field— begins to figure — surprises a strong Bri" 
tish party at Nelson'' s old field — scourges the tories 
at Black Mingo — again smites them hip and thigh 
on Pedee. 

THE history of the American revolution is a his- 
tory of miracles, all bearing, like sunbeams, on this 
heavenly ^a/: "America shall be free !" 

Some of our chimney-corner philosophers can 
hardly believe, when they read of Sampson making 
such a smash among the Philistines with the jaw- 
bone of an ass. Then how will they believe what I 
am going to tell them of Marion 1 How will they be- 
lieve that, at a time when the British had completely 
overrun South Carolina ; their head quarters at 
Charleston ; a victorious army at Camden ; strong 
garrisons at Georgetown and Jacksonborough, with 
swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling 
up all between ; and the spirits of the poor whigs so 
completely cowed, that they were fairly knocked u« 



113 THE LIFE OF 

der to the civil and military yolce of the Brili*! ; 
who, I ask again, will believe, that in this desperate 
state of things, one little, swarthy, French^phizzed 
Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged country, 
men, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared 
to turn his horse's head towards this all conquering \ 
foe ? \ 

Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with 
his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nelson's 
feny, on the great war path between the British ar- 
mies at Charleston and Camden. 

" Now, my gallant friends," said he, at sight of the 
road, and with a face burning for battle, " now look 
sharp ! here are the British wagon tracks, with the 
sand still falling in ! and here are the steps of their 
troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be 
idle here !" 

And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached 
ooir hiding place in the swamp, before in came our 
scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with 
a world of American prisoners, were on their march 
for Charleston. 

" How many prisoners do you suppose there were 1 * 
said Marion. 

" Near two hundred," replied the scouts. 

" And what do you imagine was the number of the 
British guard?" 

"Why, sir, we counted about ninety." 

"Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well, 
that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only 
stand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have 
those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise." 

We told him to lead on, for that we were resolved to 
die by his side. 

Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to 
the ferry, and passing for a party of good loyalist'!. 
we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prison- 
tT'^ having just effected the passage of the river ag 
tiu'. iiim went down, halted nt the first tavern gene 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. in 

ally called " the Blue House," where the officers or 
dered supper. In front of the building, was a large 
arbour, wherein the topers were wont to sit, and spend 
the jocund night away in songs and gleeful draughts 
of apple brandy grog. In this arbour, flushed with 
their late success, sat the British guard ; and tickler 
after tickler- swilling, roared it away to the tune of 
"Britannia strike home :" till overcome with fatigue, 
and the opiate juice, down they sunk, deliciously 
bcastified, to the ground. 

Just as the cock had winded his last horn for day 
we approached the house in perfect concealment, be- 
hind a string of fence, within a few yards of it. But 
in spite of all our address, we could not effect a com- 
plete surprisal of them. Their sentinels took tlie 
alarm, and firing their pieces, fled into the yard. Swift 
as lightning we entered with them, and seizing their 
muskets, which M^ere all stacked near the gate, we 
made prisoners of the whole party, without having 
been obliged to kill more than three of them. 

Had Washington and his whole army been upon 
che survivors, they could hardly have roared out 
lOuder for quarter. After securing their arms, Ma- 
rion called for their captain ; but he was not to be 
found, high nor low, among the living or dead. 
However, after a hot search, he was found up the 
chimney ! He begged very hard that we would not 
let his men know where he had concealed himself 
Nothing could equal the mortification of the British, 
when they came to see what a handful of militia-men 
had taken them, and recovered all their prisoners. 

Marion was at first in high hopes, that the Ameri- 
can regulars, whom be had so gallantly rescued, would, 
to a man, have joined his arms, and fought hard to 
avenge their late defeat. But equally to his surprise 
and their ozvn disgrace, not one of them could be pre- 
vailed on to shoulder a musket ! " Where is the use,*' 
said they, " of fighting now, when all is lost ?'' 
This was the general impression. And indeed- 
\j 2 



118 THE LIFE OF 

except these unconquerable spirits, Marion and 
Sumpter, witii a few others of the same heroic stamp, 
who kept the field, Carolina was no better than a 
British province. 

In our late attack on the enemy, we had but four 
rounds of powder and ball ; and not a single sword 
that deserved the name. But Marion soon remedied 
that defect. He bought up all the old saw blades 
from the mills, and gave them to the smiths, who 
presently manufactured for us a parcel of substantial _ 
broadswords, sufficient, . as I have often seen, to kill 
a man at a single blow. 

From our prisoners in the late action, we got com- 
pletely armed ; a couple of English muskets, with 
bayonets and cartouch-boxes, to each of us, with . 
which we retreated into Britton's Neck. 

We had not been there above twenty-four hours 
before the news was brought us by a trusty friend^ 
that the tories, on Pedee, were mustering, in force, 
under a captain Barfield. This, as we learnt after- 
wards, was one of the companies that my uncle's old 
coachman had been so troubled about. We were - 
quickly on horseback ; and after a brisk ride of foi'ty 
miles, came upon their encampment, at three o'clock 
in the morning. Their surprise was so complete, that 
they did not fire a single shot ! Of forty-nine men, 
who composed their company, we killed and took 
about thirty. The arms, ammunition, and horses, of 
the whole party, fell into our hands, with which we 
returned to Britton's Neck, without the loss of a 
man. 

The rumour of these two exploits soon reached the 
British and their frienof the tories, who presently 
despatched three stout companies to attack us. Tv/o 
of the parties were British ; one of them commanded 
by major Weymies, of house-burning memory. The 
third party were altogether tories. We fled before 
them towards North Carolina. Supposing they had 
entirely scouted us, they gave over the chase, and r 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION, tt9 

treated for their respective stations ; the British to 
Georgetown, and the tories to Black Mingo. Learn- 
ing this, from the swift mounted scouts whom h^ al- 
ways kept close hanging upon their march, Marion 
ordered us to face about, and dog them to their en- 
campment, which we attacked witli great fury. Our 
fire commenced on them at but a short distance, and 
with great effect ; but outnumbering us, at least two 
to one, they stood their ground and fought despe- 
I rately. But losing their commander, and being hard 
pressed, they at length gave way, and fled in the ut- 
most precipitation, leaving upwards of two-thirds of 
' their number, killed and wounded, on the gi'ound. — 
; The surprise and destruction of the tories would 
I have been complete, had it not been for the alarm 
j given by our horses' feet in passing Black Mingc 
bridge, near which they were encamped. Marion 
( never afterwards suffered us to cross a bridge in the 
i night, until we had first spread our blankets on it, to 
I prevent noise. 

I This third exploit of Marion rendered his name 

I very dear to the poor ivhigs^ but utterly abominable 

I to the enemy, particularly the tories, who were so 

terrified at this last handling, that, on their retreat, 

they would not halt a moment at Georgetown, 

j though twenty miles from the field of battle ; but 

continued their flight, not thinking themselves safe, 

j until they had got Sanree river between him and 

I them. 

I These three spirited charges, having cost us a great 

deal of rapid marching and fatigue, Marion said he 

would give us " a little rest^ So he led us down into 

! Waccamaw, v/here he knew we had some excellent 

j friends ; among whom were the Hugers and Trapiers, 

Lind Alstons ; fine fellows! rich as Jews, and heartij 

!as we could wish ; indeed the wealthy captain, now 

colonel William Alston, was one of Marion's aids. 

These great people all received us as though we 

had been their brothers, threw open the gates of their 



120 THE LIFE OF 

elegant yards for our cavalry, hurried us up then 
princely steps; and, notwithstanding cur dirt and 
rags, ushered us into their grand saloons and dining 
rooms, where the famous mahogany sideboards were 
quickly covered with pitchers of old amber coloured 
brandy, and sugar dishes o^ double refined^ with honey, 
for drams and juleps. Our horses were up to the 
eyes in corn and sweet-scented fodder ; while, as to 
ourselves, nothing that air, land, or water could fur- 
nish, was good enough for us. Fish, flesh, and fowl, 
all of the fattest and Jinest^ and sweetly graced with 
the smiles of the great ladies, were spread before us, 
as though we had been kings : while Congress and 
Washington v/ent round in sparkling bumpers, from 
old demijohns that had not left the garret for many a 
year. 

This was feasting indeed ! It was a feasting of the 
SOU- as well as of the sense. To have drawn the 
sword for liberty and dear country's sake, was, of 
Itself, no mean reward to honest republicans ; but, 
beside that, to be so honoured and caressed, l^y tk 
great ones of the land, was like throwing the zone o£ 
Venus over the waist of Minerva, or like crowning 
profit with pleasure, and duty with delight. 

In consequence of the three fortunate blows which 
he had lately struck, Marion, as before observed, was 
getting the enviable honour to be looked up to as the 
rallyrig pomt of the poor whigs j insomuch, that al- 
though afraid as mice to stir themselves, yet, if they 
found out that the tories and British were any where 
forming encampments about rhe country, they would 
mount tlieir boys and push them oiTto Marion to let 
him know. Here I must give the reader an instance 
on the spot. 

We had just got ourselves well braced up again, by 
rest and high feeding, among the noble whigs of 
Waccamav/, when a likely young fellow at half speed 
drove up one morning to the house, and asked fo* 
general Marion. 



GEN FRANCIS MARION. 121 

Marion went to the door. 

" Well, my son, what do you want with me ?" 

" Why, sir Keneral,'* replied the youth, " daddy 
sent me down to let you know, as how there ig to be 
a mighty gathering of the toriea, in our parts, to-mor- 
row night.'* * 

*' Aye indeed ! and pray whereabouts, my son, may 
your parts be ?** 

" Heigh, sir general ! don't you know where ou! 
parts is ? I thought every body knowed where daddy 
lives." 

" No, my son, I don't ; but, I've a notion he lives 
somewhere on Pedee ; perhaps a good way up." 

" Yes, by jing, does he live a good way up ! a mat- 
ter of seventy miles ; clean away up there, up on Little 
Pedee." 

" Very well, my son, I thank your daddy, and you 
too, for letting me know it. And, I believe, I must 
try to meet the tories there." 

" O la, sir general, try to meet 'em indeed! yes, to 
be sure ! dear me, sirs, hearts alive, that you must, sir 
p"eneral ! for daddy says, as how, he is quite sartin, if 
you'll be there to-morrow night, you may make a pro- 
per smash among the tories ; for they'll be there thick 
and threefold. They have heard, so they say, oi your 
doing's, and are going to hold this great meeting, on 
purpose to come all the way down here after yoti.^^ 

" After me ?" 

" Yes, indeed are they, sir general ! and you had 
better keep a sharp look out, I tell you now ; for they 
have just been down to the British, there at George- 
tcwn, and brought up ci matter of two wagon loads of 
guns ; great big English muskets ! I can turn my 
J thumb in them easy enough ! And, besides them 
' plaguy guns, they have got a tamed nation sight o-f 
pistols! and bagonets ! and swords! and saddles! 
and bridles ! and the dear knows what else besides ! 
so they are in a mighty good fix, you may depend, 
\ »ir general." 



^ 



1:22 THE LIFE OF 

" Well, perhaps you and I may have some of then 
fine things to-morrow night. What say you to it, my 
son r 

" By jing, I should like it proper well ! But, to b« 
sure, now, sir general, you look like a mighty small 
man to fight them great big tories there, on Pedee. \ 
But daddy says as how the heart is all ; and he says, \ 
too, that though you are but a little man, you have a 
monstrous great heart." 

Marion smiled, and went out among his men, to 
whom he related the boy's errand ; and desired them 
to question him, so that there might be no trick in the 
matter. But every scruple of that sort was quickly 
removed ; for several of our part}'^ were well acquaint- 
ed with the lad's father, and knew him to be an ex- 
cellent whig. 

Having put our firearms in prime order for an at- 
tack, we mounted ; and giving our friends three 
cheers, dashed off, just as the broad-faced moon 
arose ; and by daybreak next morning, had gained a 
very convenient swamp, within ten miles of the grand 
tory rendezvous. To avoid giving alarm, we struck 
into the swamp, and there, man and horse, lay snug 
all day. About eleven o'clock, Marion sent out a 
couple of nimble-footed young men, to conceal them- 
selves near the main road, and take good heed to 
what was going on. In the evening they returned 
and brought word, that the road had been constantly 
alive with horsemen, tories they supposed, armed 
with new guns, and all moving on veiy gaily towards 
the place the lad had told us of. Soon as it was 
dark, we mounted, and took the track at a sweeping 
gallop, which, by early supper time, brought us in 
sight of their fires. Then leaving our horses under 
a small guard, we advanced quite near them, in the 
dark, without being discovered ; for so little thought 
had they of Marion, that they had not placed a single 
sentinel ; but were, all hands, gathered about the 
fire : some cooking, some fiddling and dancing, np-* 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 123 

some playing cards, as we could hear them every 
now and then bawling out, " Huzza^ at him again 
damme ! aye^ that's the dandy ! My tricky begad I'''* 

Poor wretches, little did they think how near the 
fates were grinning around them. 

Observing that they had three large fires, Marion 
divided our little party of sixty men into three com- 
panies, each opposite to a fire, then bidding us to take 
aim, with his pistol he gave the signal for a general 
discharge. In a moment the woods were all in a blaze, 
as by a flash of lightning, accompanied by a tremen- 
dous clap of thunder. Down tumbled the dead ; off 
bolted the living; loud screamed the wounded; while 
far and wide, all over the woods, nothing was to be 
heard but the running of tories, and the snorting of 
wild bounding horses, snapping the saplings. Such a 
tragi-comedy was hardly ever seen. On running up 
to their fires, we found we had killed twenty-three, 
and badly wounded as manj'^ more ; thirteen we made 
prisoners ; poor fellows who had not been grazed by 
a bullet, but were so frightened that they could not 
budge a peg. We got eighty-four stand of arms, chiefly 
English muskets and bayonets, one hundred horses, 
with new saddles and bridles, all English too, with a 
good deal of ammunition and baggage. The conster- 
nation of the tories was so great that they never 
dreamt of carrj'ing off any thing. Even their fiddles 
and fiddle bows, and playing cards, were all left 
strewed around their fires. One of the gamblers, (it 
is a serious truth') though shot dead, still held the 
cards hard griped in his hands. Led by curiosity to 
nspect this strange sight, a dead gambler^ we found 
that the cards which he held were ace, deuce, and 
jack. Clubs were trumps. Holding high, low, jack, 
and the game, in his own hand, he seemed to be in a 
fair way to do well ; but Marion came down upon 
him Avith a trump that spoiled his sport, and non- 
suited him for ever. 

But the most comfortable sight of all, was the fire 



VM THE LIFE OF 

supper which the tories had cooked ! three fat roasted 
pigs, and six turkeys, with piles of nice journey-cakes. 
Tis true, the dead bodies lay very thick round the 
fires : but having rode seventy miles, and eating no- 
thhig since the night before, we were too keen set to 
think of standing on trifles ; so fell upon the poor 
tories' provisions, and made the heartiest supper in 
the world. And, to crown all, we found among the 
spoil, upwards of half a barrel of fine old peach 
brandy. 

" Ah, this brandy !" said Marion, " was the worst 
foe these poor rogues ever had. But I'll take care it 
shall be no foe to us." So, after ordering half a pint 
to each man, he had the balance put under guard. 
And I must observe, by way of justice to my honour- 
ed friend, that success never seemed to elate him ; 
nor did ever he lose sight of safety in the blaze of 
victor}^ For instantly after the defeat, our guns were 
all loaded and pnr sentinels set, as if an enemy had 
been in force in the neighbourhood. 



CHAPTER X\ 

The whig-s in hig-h spirits on account of our successes 

an express from Governor Rutledge^iromotions 

British and tories in g-reat xvrath-sketch of their 
treatment of the patriots. 

THE nev/s of this fourth overthrow of the enemy, 
was soon spread far and wide among both our friends 
and foes ; producing every where the liveliest emo- 
tions of joy or sorrow, according as the hearers hap- 
pened to be well or ill aflected towards us. The im- 
pression which it made on our honoured executive, 
was sweeter to our thoughts than honey or the honey- 
comb. For on the fifth day after our last flagellation 
of the tories, in came an express from governor Rut- 
ledge, with a commission of brigadier general for Ma- 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 1S4 

Hon, and a full coloners commission for me. Having 
always looked up to my country as to a beloved mo- 
ther, whose liberty and prosperity were inseparably 
connected with my own, it is no wonder that I should 
have been so deliglvted at hearing her say, by her fa- 
vourite son, governor Rutledge, thm, rep osmg" especial 
trust in my courage^ conduct^ and attrition to her in' 
terestSy she had appointed me a colonel in her armies ^ 
&c. &c. 

Scarcelyhad I perused my commission, before Ma- 
rion reached me his ; and with a smile, desired me to 
read it. Soon as I came to his new title, " brigadiei 
general," I snatched his hand and exclaimed," Iluzza! 
God save my friend ! my noble General Marion 1 
general! general I Aye that will do ! that will do! that 
Bounds somewhat in unison with your deserts." 

" Well, but what do you think of the style^"* replied 
he, " and of the prerogative — is it not prodigiously in 
the pompous ?" 

" Not at all^'' said I. 
I " No,^' continued he ; *' why now to my notion, it ia 
( very much in the turgid, in the Asiatic. It gives me 
1 dominions from river to river, and from the mountains 
^ to the great sea, like Tamerlane or Ghenghis Khan ; 
1 or like George III. * by the grace of God^ king oj 
* Great Britain^ France,' &c. &c, whereas, poor 
George dares not set a foot there, even to pick up a 
periwinkle !" 

" Well, but general," said I, '* as the English gave 
France to George because they wish him to have it ; 
8o I suppose the good governoi gives you this vast 
district for the same reason." 
" Perhaps so^^'' replied Marion. 
The truth is, governor Rutledge was a most ardent 
lover of his country ; and, therefore, almost adored 
Buch an unconquerable patriot as Marion. 

Hence, when he found, that notwithstanding the 
many follies and failures of northern generals and ar- 
mies ; notwithstanding the victoiies, and proclaraa* 
M 



158 THE LIFE OF 

sir, only to desire that you will tak^ the most vigor- 
ous measures to extinguish the rebellion in the dis- 
trict which you command, and that you will obey^ in 
the strictest manner^ the directions I have given in 
this letter, relative to the treatment of this country. 

This order of lord Comwallis proved to South Ca- 
olina like the opening of Pandora's box. Instantly 
there broke forth a torrent of cruelties and crimes 
never before heard of in our simple forests. Lord 
^ Rawdon acted, as we shall see, a shameful part in 
these bloody tragedies, and so did colonel Tarleton, 
But the officer who figured most in executing the de- 
testable orders of Cornwallis, was a major Weymies- 
Tliis man was, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi- 
ple and practice, a INIohawk. So totally destitute was 
ne of that amiable sympathy which belongs to his 
nation, that, in sailing up Winy aw bay, and Wacca- 
maw and Pedee rivers, he landed, and pillaged, and 
burnt every house he durst approach ! Such was the, 
style of his entry upon our afflicted state, and such the 
spirit of his doings throughout: for wherever he went, 
an unsparing destruction awaited upon his footsteps. 

Unhappily, our country had but too many pupils 
that fitted exactly such a preceptor. The lazy, dram- 
drinking, plunder-loving tories, all gloried in major ^ 
Weymies ; and were ever ready, at the winding of 
his horn, to rush forth with him, like hungry blood- 
hounds, on his predatory excursions. The dogs of 
hell were all now completely uncoupled, and every 
devilish passion in man had its proper game to fly at 
Here was a fine time for malice to feed her ancient 
gi-udges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder j 
and revfjige to pay off her old scores^ with bloody 
interest. 

A thievish tory, who had been publicly whipped 
by a whig magistrate, or had long coveted his silver 
tankard, or his handsome rifle, or his elegant horse^ 
had but to point out his house, to major Weymies, 



GEN, FRANCIS MARION. 129 

•Micl say, " There lives a d — d rebel." The amiable 
vfiajor and his myrmidons, would surround the noble 
building in a trice; and after gutting it of all its rich 
furniture, would reduce it to ashes. It was in vain 
that the poor delicate mother and her children, on 
bended knees, with wringing hands and tear-swim- 
ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to bum their 
house over their heads. Such eloquence, which has 
often moved the breasts of savages, was all lost on 
major Weymies and his banditti. They no more re- 
garded the sacred cries of angel-watched children 
than the Indians do the cries of the young beavers^ 
whose houses they are breaking up. 

But, oh, joy eternal! " the Lord is king." His 
law is love, and they who sin against this lav/, soon or 
late, shall find that they have sinned against their own 
souls. 

A planter, in his fields, accidentally turning towards 
his house, suddenly discovers a vast column of smoke 
bursting forth, and ascending in black curling volumes 
to heaven. " Oh my God ! my house !" he exclaims, 
" my poor wife and children !" Then, half bereft of 
his senses, he sets off and runs towards his house. — 
Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, " Oh, my pooi 
wife and children !" Presently he hears their cries ; 
he sees them .at a distance with outstretched arms 
flying towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children 
tremblingly exclaim ; while his wife, all pale and ou 
of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out. 
" The British ! oh the British,'''' sinks into a swoon. 
Who can tell the feelings of the father and the hus- 
band ! His wife convulsed in his arms ! his little beg- 
gared children screaming around him ! and his pro- 
perty all sinking to ruin, by merciless enemies ! Pre- 
sently his wife, after a strong fit, with a deep sigh, 
comes to herself; he wipes her tears; he embraces 
and hushes his children. By and by, supposing the 
British to be gone, arm in arm the mournful group 
return. But ah, shocking sight! their once stately 
M 2 



1S8 THE LIFE OF 

sir, only to desire that you will take the most vigor- 
ous measures to extinguish the rebellion in the dis- 
trict which you command, and that you will obey^ in 
the strictest manner^ the directions I have given in 
this letter, relative to the treatment of this country. 

This order of lord Comwallis proved to South Ca- 
olina like the opening of Pandora's box. Instantly 
there broke forth a torrent of cruelties and crimes 
never before heard of in our simple forests. Lord 
Rawdon acted, as we shall see, a shameful part in 
these bloody tragedies, and so did colonel Tarleton. 
But the officer who figured most in executing the de- 
testable orders of Cornwallis, was a major Weymies- 
Tliis man v\ras, by birth, a Scotsman ; but, in princi- 
ple and practice, a ISIohawk. So totally destitute was 
ne of tliat amiable sympathy which belongs to his 
nation, that, in sailing up Winyaw bay, and Wacca- 
maw and Pedee rivers, he landed, and pillaged, and 
burnt every house he durst approach ! Such was the 
style of his entry upon our afflicted state, and such the 
spirit of his doings throughout: for wherever he went, 
an unsparing destruction awaited upon his footsteps. 

Unhappily, our country had but too many pupils 
that fitted exactly such a preceptor. The lazy, dram- 
drinking, plunder-loving tories, all gloried in major 
Weymies ; and were ever ready, at the winding of 
his horn^ to rush forth with him, like hungry blood'^ 
hounds, on his predatory excursions. The dogs of 
hell were all now completely uncoupled, and every 
devilish passion in man had its proper game to fly at 
Here was a fine time for vialice to feed her ancient 
grudges ; for avar'ce to cram her maw with plunder; 
and reve.n^e to pay off her old scores, with bloody 
interest. 

A thievish tory, who had been publicly whipped 
by a whig magistrate, or had long coveted his silver 
tankard, or his handsome rifle, or his elegant horse, 
bad but to point out his house to major Weymies, 



GEN, FRANCIS MARION. 12? 

■Mid say, ** There lives a d — d rebel." The amiable 
vnajor and his myrmidons, would surround the noble 
building in a trice; and after gutting it of all its rich 
furniture, would reduce it to ashes. It was in vain 
that the poor delicate mother and her children, on 
bended knees, with wringing hands and tear-swim- 
ming eyes implored him to pity, and not to bum their 
house over their heads. Such eloquence, which has 
often moved the breasts of savages, was all lost on 
major Weymies and his banditti. They no more re- 
garded the sacred cries of angel-watched children 
than the Indians do the cries of the young beaverSj 
whose houses they are breaking up. 

But, oh, joy eternal! " the Lord is king." His 
law is love, and they who sin against this lav/, soon or 
late, shall find that they have sinned against their own 
souls. 

A planter, in his fields, accidentally turning towards 
his house, suddenly discovers a vast column, of smoke 
bursting forth, and ascending in black curling volumes 
to heaven. " Oh my God ! my house !" he exclaims, 
" my poor wife and children !" Then, half bereft of 
his senses, he sets off and runs towards his house. — 
Still, as he cuts the air, he groans out, " Oh, my pooi 
wife and children !" Presently he hears their cries ; 
he sees them .at a distance with outstretched arms 
flying towards him. Oh, pa! pa! pa! his children 
tremblingly exclaim ; while his wife, all pale and ou 
of breath, falls on his bosom, and, feebly crying out, 
"The British ! oh the British^'' sinks into a swoon. 
Who can tell the feelings of the father and the hus- 
band ! His wife convulsed in his arms ! his little beg- 
gared children screaming around him ! and his pro- 
perty all sinking to ruin, by merciless enemies ! Pre- 
sently his wife, after a strong fit, with a deep sigh, 
comes to herself; he wipes her tears; he embraces 
and hushes his children. By and by, supposing the 
British to be gone, arm in arm the mournful group 
return. But ah, shocking sight ! their once stately 
U 2 



ISO THE LIFE OF 

map.sion which shone so beauteous on the plain, the 
pride and pleasure of their eyes, is now the prey of 
devouring flames. Their slaves have all disappeared j 
dicir stock, part is taken away, part lies bleeding in 
the yard, stabbed by bayonets ; their elegant furniture, 
tables, glasses, clocks, beds, all is swallowed up. An 
army of passing demons could have done no worse* 
But while with tearful eye they are looking round on 
the wide-spread ruin, undermined by the fire, down 
comes the tall building with thundering crash to the 
ground. The frightened mourners start aghast from 
the hideous squelch, and weep afresh to see all the 
hopes and glories of their state thus suddenly ended 
in smoke and ashes. 

It was in this way exactly that the British treated 
my brother, major Hugh Horry, as brave a soldier as 
ever fought in America. They laid in ashes all his 
dwelling houses, his barns o£ clean rice, and even his 
rice stacks / Destroyed his cattle ; carried off eighty 
negroes, which were all he had, not leaving him 
one to bake him a cake. Thus, in one hour, as the 
wild Arabs served Job, did the British serve my 
poor brother, breaking him up root and branch : and, 
from a state of afRuence, reduced him to a dunghill. 
These savage examples, first set by the British, and 
followed by the tories, soon produced the effect which 
Marion had all along predicted. They filled the hearts 
of the sufferers with the deadliest hate of the British j 
and brought them, in crowds, to join his standard, 
with muskets in their hands, and vows of revenge 
eternal in their mouths. 

Hence it was that nothing so pleased Marion as to 
hear of British cruelty to his countrymen. 

" 'Tis a harsh medicine^^- he used to say, " but it is 
necessary ; for there is nothing else that will ivork 
them. And unless they are well -worked and scoured 
of their mother milk, or beastling partiality to the 
English, they are lost. Our country is like a man who 
has swallowed a mortal poison. Give him an anodyne 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION Ui 

to keep him easy, and he's a dead man. But if yoM 
can only knock him about, and so put the poison in 
motion as to make him deadly sick at the stomach, and 
heave like a dog with ?. bone in his throat, he is safe. 
Cornwallis h»s all this time been lulling them by his 
proclamations^ and p7'otec.tions^ and lies. But, thank 
God, that time is pretty well over now ; for these un- 
feeling monsters, these children of the devil, have let 
out the cloven foot^ and the thing is now beginning to 
work as I expected. Our long deluded people are 
opening their eyes, and beginning to see and smell the 
blood and burnings of that Tophet^ that political hell 
of slavery and ruin, to which the British army is now 
endeavouring, by murder and rapine, to reduce 
them." 

This was truly the case : for, every day the whigs 
were coming into Marion's camp. Those who were 
too old to fight themselves, would call upon their 
sturdy boys to " turn out and join [general Marion^'^ 

It was diverting to see how they would come 
staving upon their tackies ; belted round with tlieir 
powderhorns and shotbags, with rifles in hand, and 
their humble homespun streaming in the air. The 
finely curling smile brightened in the face of Ma- 
rion ; and his eye beamed that laughing joy, with 
which a father meets his thoughtless boy, returning 
dirty and beaten by blackguards, from v/hose dan- 
gerous company he had sought in vain a thousand 
times to wean him. 

" Well, my son !'' Marion would say, " and what 
good news do you bring vis ?" 

" Why, why, why, sir general,'* replies the youth, 
Kalf cocked with rage, and stammering for words, 
'' as I was overlooking my father's negi'oes in the rice 
grounds, the British and tories came and took them 
Mid carried thepi all away ; and I only am left alone 
to tell you." 

Presently another comes and savs; "As I was 
iriving the horses and cattle down to the pasture, 



133 THE LIFE OF 

the British and tones fell upon them, and carried 
them all away ; and I alone am left to tell you." 

While he was yet speaking, another comes and 
says : " The British and tories came with fire and 
burnt our houses and goods, and have driven my 
mother and the children into the woods ; and I only 
am left alone to tell you." 

Next comes another, who says : ^' My father and 
myself were ploughing together in the field, and the 
British and tories came upon us and shot my father^ 
and I only am left alone to tell you." 

Another comes and tells, that "lord Rawdon is 
taking the whig prisoners every week, out of the jail 
in Camden, and hanging them up by half dozens, near 
the windows, like dead crows in a corn-field, to fright- 
en the rest, and make good tories of them." 

Another states, that " colonel Charles Pinckney, 
prisoner in Charleston, for striking a couple of hise 
lent negroes^ was cursed by the British officers as a 
d — d rehel^ and driven with kicks a-nd blows into the 
house, for daring to strike his Britanmc Majesty's 
subjects r"^ 

Here Marion snapped his fingers for joy, and shout- 
ed, "/f?/2;2a/ z/i<7^V r/^V;?.' thafs right! O my noble 
Britons, lay on ! lay on the spaniels stoutly ! they want 
British protections, do they ? O the rogues ! show 
them no quarter, but give it to them handsomely! 
break their Imcks like dogs ! cut them over the face, 
and eyes like cats ! bang them like asses ! thank ye ! 
thank ye, Cornv/allis and Rawdon ! most noble lords, 
I thank ye ! you liave at hist brought the wry face 
upon my countrymen, tbe cold sweaty the sardonic 
grin. Thank God ! the potion begins to work ' 
huzza, ray sons ! heave ! heave I aye, there comes the 
bile; the atrabi liar y; the black vomiting which por- 
tends death to the eneiny. Now Britons, look to your 
»hips, for Carolina will soon be ton hot to hold you." 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IS^ 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Colonel Tynes^ the famous tonj partisan^ attempts to 
surprise Marion — is himself surprised and taken* 
with nearly all his party — the author^ xuith thirty 
choice cavalie7's^ sent by Marion to reconnoitre — de- 
ft ut of a British party af horse — anecdoie of Scotch 
Macaonald — surprise and slaughter of the tories — 
captain Lewis is killed — anecdoie of an extraordi 
niry led. 

SOON after this last victory on Pedee, Marion 
moved down into the neighbourhood of Black river ; 
where he instantly got notice, that a large body of 
tories under the celebrated Col. Tynes, were making 
gi'eat preparations to attack him. Ihis Tynes was a 
man of valour and address worthy of a better cause. 
In several contests with the wViigs, he had handled 
them very roughly ; and was become such a terror to 
the friends of liberty in that part of the world, that 
they were greatly alarmed on finding that he was 
mustering all his forces to attack Marion. We were 
scarcely encamped, before three expresses arrived 
from the whij; settlements on Black river, stating 
colonel Tynes^ movements ; and advising to keep a 
g'ood look outy for that he was a very artful and dan^ 
gerous fellow . According to their conjectures, colonel 
Tynes must have had no less than one hundred and 
fifty men: our number did not quite reach ninety j 
but they wer<i all volunteers, and exceedingly chafed 
and desperate in their minds, by the barbarous usage 
of the Britifih and tories. Having, by this day's 
march of fifty miles, got within twenty miles of the 
enemy, who supposed that we were still on Pedee. 
Marion instantly resolved to attack him that night. 
No sooner was this made known to the *roops, than 
the fatigues of the day appeared to be entirely for- 
gotten. All hands fell to work, currying, rubbing and 
feeding their norses, like young men preparing for a 



54 THE LIFE OF 

ball or barbacue. Then after a hearty supper and a 
few hours' sleep, we all sprung upon our chargers 
again, and dashed off about one o'clock, to try our 
fortune with colonel Tynes. Just before day, we came 
upon the enemy, whom we found buried in sleep. 
The roar of our guns first broke their slumbers ; and 
by the time the frightened wretches had got upon their 
legs, man and horse, we were among them hewing 
down. Three and thirty fell under our swords; for- 
ty-six were taken ; the rest, about sixty, made their 
escape. Colonel Tynes himself, with upwards of one 
hundred horses, and all the baggage, fell into our 
hands. 

A day or two after this victory, the general order 
ed me to take captain Baxter, lieutenant Postell, and 
sergeant Macdonald, with thirty privates, and see if I 
could not gain some advantage over the enemy near 
the lines of Georgetown. About midnight we cross- 
ed Black river ; and, pushing on in great silence 
through the dark woods, arrived at da%vn of day near 
the enemy's sentries, where we lay in ambush close 
on the road. Just after the usual hour of breakfast, 
a chair, with a couple of young ladies, 'squired by a j 
brace of British officers elegantly mounted, came ' 
along at a sweeping rate from Georgetown. 

They had not passed us more than fifty steps, before : 
they stopped short. I was confoundedly afraid at first - 
that they had, somehow or other, smelt a rat ; hut it 
turned out, as we afterwards learned, that this was '] 
only a little courting party, going into the country to j 
dine. On getting into the gloomy woods, the P^irls \ 
were taken with a quaking fit for their sweethearts, ' 
lest that vile " swamp fox," as they called Marion, i 
should come across them. Whereupon the halt afore- • 
said was ordered, and a consultation held ; the result ; 
of which was, that the girls should go an to their i 
friend's house, and the officers back to town for a par- j 
ty of dragoons. Accordingly the chair proceeded, and j 
the ofiieerg galloped brxk by us, undisturbed ; for we 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 135 

{ did not think it worth while to risk an alarm for the 
p sake of a couple of officers. Presently beginning to 
1 feel very hungry, for we had travelled all night and 
, eaten nothing, we agreed to retire to the house of a 
neighbouring planter, who was known to be a good 
I whig. As we entered the yard, what should we see 
. but the identical chair that had passed us a little be 
t fore ! — and on stepping into the house, behold the 
,5 very same young ladies ! They were richly dressed, 
\ and well formed, and v/ould no doubt have appeared 
{ nandsome, but for the hostile passions which glared 
{ from their eyes, and gave their whole physiognomy 
a fury-like expression. They asked us, with great 
I pertness, " what business we had there ? The gentle- 
j man of the house," continued they, " is not at home, 
and there are no provisions here for you, and to be 
i sure, you are too much of gentlemen to think of 
( frightening a family of poor helpless women!" 
I Happily I made no reply ; for while these young 
H viragoes were catechising us at this rate, I discover- 
] ed with much pleasure, that the lady of the house 
did not utter a word, but walked the room backward 
I and forward with a smiling countenance. Presently 
I she went out; and showing herself at an opposite win- 
^ dow, beckoned me to come to her ; when she said, in 
J a low voice, " Go back ^nto the house, I'll be there 
j directly. Op my stepping iii you must demand pro- 
visions ; I will deny that I have ar^y. You must then 
get into a violent passion, and sweai' v^ou will have 
them, or set the house on fire. I will then throw 
down the keys, and you can take just what you want; 
for thank God, there is enough, both for you aad 
your horses." 

Such was the farce, which the whigs in those days, 
60th ladies and gentlemen, were obliged to play, when 
they had any of their tory acquaintance about them. 
We now played it, and with the desired success ; for 
the troughs in the yard were all presently filled with 
corn and fodder for our cavalry ; while for ourselves 



iS6 THE LIFE OF 

the good-natured cook wenthes soon served up a mo&t 
welcome repast of fried bacon and eggs, with nice 
hearth cakes and butter and milk. " God be praised," 
said we ; and down w^e sat, and made a breakfast, of 
which even kings, without exercise and keen appe- 
tites, can form no idea. 

Just as we had got completely refreshed, and braced 
up again, what should wc hear but the firing of our 
sentinels. "To horse/ to horse J viy brave felloxvs !'*'' 
was the cry of one and all. Quick as thought, we 
■were all mounted and formed, when in came our sen- 
tinels, with the British dragoons hard after them, 
smack up to the fence. Charge boys, charge ! was 
the v/ord. In a moment the yard was bright with the 
shining of our swords. The tcry girls shrieked out 
for their sweethearts- — ^Oh the British J the British ! 
murder! murder! OA/" Then off we went, all at 
once, in solid column. The enemy took to their heels, 
and we pursued. Over the fence we bounded like 
stags. Down the hill went the British. Down the 
hill went we; helter-skelter, man and horse, v.^e flew: 
roaring through the woods like the sound of distant 
thunder. 

Wc v/cre all excellently mounted ; but there was 
no horse that could hold the --vay with Selim. He 
^as the hindmost of all when the ^hase began ; and 
J wondered at first what had become of Selim ; but 
presently I saw him and Macdonald coming up on my 
right like a thundergust. Indeed, with his wide- 
spread nostrils, and long extended neck, and glaring 
eyeballs, he seemed as a flying dragon in chase of hia 
prey. He soon had his master up v/ith the enemy. 
I saw when Macdonald drew his claymore. The 
shin'mg of his steel was terrible, as, rising on his stir- 
rups, with high-lifted arm, he waved it three times 
m fiery circles over his head, as if to call up all his 
strength. Then, with a voice of thunder, he poured 
his changing shout,, dreadful as the roar of the lion 
when, close up to his game, with hideous paws un 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. l&T 

clenched, he makes his last spring on the fat buffaloes 
of his chase. 

Though their mortal enemy, I could not but pity 
the poor fugitives, for I saw that their death was at 
hand. One of the British officers fired a pistol at 
him, but without effect : before he could try another, 
he was cut down by Macdonald. After this, at a 
blow a piece, he sealed the eyes of three dragoons 
in lasting sleep. Two fell beneath the steel of the 
strong-handed Snipes ; nor did my sword return 
bloodless to its scabbard. In short, of the whole 
party, consisting of twenty-five, not a man escaped-, 
except one officer, who, in the heat of the chase 
and carnage, cunningly shot off, at right angles, for 
a swamp, which he luckily gained, and so cleared 
himself. 

The name of this officer was Meriot, and as finish- 
ed a gentleman he was too, as I ever saw. I got ac- 
quainted with him after the war, at New York. Soon 
as the ceremony of introduction was over, he smiled, 
and asked if I were not in the skirmish just related ? 
On being answered in the affirmative, he again in- 
quired, if I did not recollect how handsomely one of 
the British officers gave me the slip that day ? I told 
him I did. " Well," continued he, " I was that offi- 
cer ; and of all the frights I ever had in my life, that 
was the most complete. Will you believe me, sir, 
when I assure you, that I went out that morning, with 
] my locks of as bright an auburn as ever curled upon 
the forehead of youth ; and by the time I had crawl- 
ed out of the swamp, into Georgetown, that night, 
I tht'y were as gray as a badger ! I was well nigh 
taking an oath never to forgive you, during breath, 
for frightening me so confoundedly. But, away with 
all malice ! let it go to the devil, where it belongs. 
So come, you must go dine with me, and I'll show 
you a lovelier woman than either of those that rode 
m the chair that day." 

I went with him, and was introduced to his wife^ 
N 



188 THE LIFE OF 

a lovely M'oman indeed ! to whom, with great glee, 
he related the whole history of the chase, and his owti 
naiTow escape, and then hiughed very heartily. But 
not 80 his gentle partner. For, as he told of the 
shrill whizzing of our s^vords close behind him, and 
of the groans of his dragoons as they fell, cut down 
from their horses, her face turned pale, and pensive; 
then, looking at him with great tenderness, she heaved 
a deep sigh, to think how near her husband had been 
to death. 

Mcriot looked with pleasure on the troubled coun- 
tenance of his lovely wife, because he well knew the 
fond source of her troubles. Then, snatching up a 
goblet of sangree, richly mantled over with nutmeg, 
he presented it to her ruby lips, saying, " Come, my 
dear, drink, and forget the past!'' Then, taking my 
hand with great cordiality, he exclaimed, "Well, colo- 
nel Horry, we have been foes, but thank God, we are 
good friends again. And now let me drink to you a 
sentiment of my heart, Here^s friendship in viarble^ 
tnmitij in dust.^" 

The behaviour of this noble Englishman, has often 
served to deepen my abhorrence of war, which too 
frequently sets those to cutting each others throat- 
who were born to be brothers. 

But to return to our story. " Meriot," you'll say, 
" and his brother olTicer, brought their pig-s to a bad 
market.'''' Yes, indeed; but not a jot worse than some 
of their friends came to the very day afterwards. Or 
the morning of that day, Marion, nov/ concealed in 
the swamps, near Georgetown, was pleased to order 
me out on a second excursion. " Take captain 
Snipes," said he, " with thirt}- men, and proceed 
down the Sandpit road, in quest of the enemy. ^Flie 
moment you discover them, whether British or to« 
lies^ charge with spirit, and V\\ warrant vour sue 
cess. 

^ As we approached the bridge, f till moving on very 
ciicumspectly, in the woods, wp discovered pj ■\ -Sort 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 139 

r distance, a body of horsemen, perhaps a hundred, an- 
t parently in great confusion, and very anxious to form. 
' Instantly v/e took the road, and clapping spurs to our 
horses, dashed upon them at full speed, at the same 
i time shouting as we rushed on. The enemy broke 
■ and fled in all directions. We pursued. Then you 
; might have seen the woods all covered with armed 
{ men ; some flying, otiiers pursuing; and with muskets, 
i| and pistols, and swords, shooting and cutting down 
as fast as they could. 

From the unevennessof the ground, and rapidity ot 
5 the (^arge, my men were all soon out of sight, leav- 
i ing with me but a lad of fourteen, named Gwinn, whc 
j carried a musket. At that instant, a party of nine O! 
I ten men were seen advancing, whom I took for whigs 
I and challenged as such,askingifthey were not friends ? 
j " Friends ! O yes !" replied their captain, (one Lewis) 
\ " friends to be sure ; friends to king George !" 
I Quick as thought, off went Gwinn's musket, close. 
I by my side, and down tumbled captain Lewis from 
nis horse, with a heavy squelch, to the ground. Bui 
in the very instant of receiving his death, his musket^ 
I which was raised to kill mt, took Rre and shot my 
horse dead on the spot. Seeing my horse drop, Gwinn 
dismounted, and led his horse up to me in a moment. 
Happily for us both, captain Snipes heard the re- 
port of our pieces, and thinking that we might be in 
danger, dashed on to our aid, with several of my 
troop, whooping and huzzaing as they came on. The 
tory party then fired at us, but without effect, and fled, 
leaving four of Marion's men, whom they had just 
taken, and beaten very barbarously with the butts of 
their muskets. 

This was a fital day to the torics, who must have 
lost more than half their number. For I had with me 
not only Macdonald and Snipes, but several other 
very strong and brave men, whose families had suf- 
fered very severely, by British and tory cruelty ; and, 
I am afraid, they did not forget this, when their 



140 THE LIFE OF 

swords were hanging over the heads of the fugitives, 
At any rate, they took but few prisoners. 

In the course of this day's fighting, there happened 
an affair which served to amuse us not a little on our 
return to our camp that night. The tories, who, from 
time to time had fallen into our hands, were often 
easing their vexation, by saying, that it was true, 
'' Marion had proved too cunning for colonel Tynes 
and captain Barfield, and other British and loyal offi- 
cers, whom he had attacked ; but that there was still 
one left behind, who, they were sure, if he could 
come forward, would soon show us quite a different 
sort of play; and that was colonel Gainey, from the 
head waters of Pedee." We answered, that it was 
all very well ; and that we should be glad to see colo- 
nel Gainey. Now, as God was pleased to have it, 
who should it be, that with one-third of his number, 
we had been chasing so to-day, but colonel Gainey ; 
a stout oflRcer-looking fellow he was too, and most 
nobly mounted. Macdonald made a dash at him, in 
full confidence of getting a gallant charger. But the 
good book tells us, that " the race is not always to the 
swift :" and owing partly to the fleetness of his horse, 
and partly to a most extraordinary sort of accident, 
colonel Gainey made his escape from our Scotsman. 
The chase was towards Georgetown, distant little 
more than two miles. Never on earth did two horses 
or horsemen make greater exertions. Fear impelling 
the one, fury urging the other. Macdonald declared, 
that in the chase he passed several tories whom he 
could easily have cut down, but like the lion in pur- 
suit of a favourite buffalo, he took no notice of them. 
His eye was fixed on colonel Gainey. Just as they 
turned Richmond corner, Selim had brought his mas- 
ter near enough to his prey to make a stroke at him 
with his bayonet. By a sudden jerk, it is supposed, 
the weapon turned ; so that when Macdonald drew 
back the carbine, he left the bayonet up to the hilt m 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION.' 141 

his back. In this way colonel Gainey rode into town 
prodigiously to his ov/n and the mortification of hi* 
friends the British and tories. 



HrtlUiH! 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Spirit of the tories — assassination of lieutenant Marion 
— the murderer murdered — Marior^^ reflections on 
the death of his nephew — his manner oj rewardint^ 
extraordinary courage among his men"--^ ketch of ilie 
brave boy Gwinn. 

"If mortal htinds thy peace destroy, 

O: friendsVup's gifts bestow, 
Wilt thou to iiian ascribe the joy, 

To man impute the wo ? 

" *Tis GOD, whose thoughts for wisest e-mls, 

The human lots dispose; 
Around thee plants assisting fviends, 

Or heaps chastising foes. 

"Not from the bonv the deaths proceed, 
But from the Archei'^s skill. 



He lends the winged shaft its jpeed, 
And irives it power to kill/* 



gives It powei 

AND here I must relate a tragicr/i affair that befei 
us that day, and which filled us all with grief, because 
of our beloved general. I mean the barbarous murder 
of his nephew. Of all men who ever drew the sword, 
Marion was one of the most humane. He not only 
prevented all cruelty, in his own presence, but strictly 
forbade it in his absence. I have knoTvn him to talk 
ft)r a quarter of an hour together, with one of his men, 
for striking over the head, a horse that had started ; 
and to punish another for taking away from a negro» 
his ragged chicken. To reabon then like men, one 
would suppose that he wa$ the last person on whom 
N2 



142 THE LIFE OF 

such a cruel blow as the murder of a favourite nephew 
should have fallen. But thanks to God, for that most 
comfortable doctrine, that not even a sparrow can die 
until his death-warrant has been signed in heaven; 
and, since this young man did d>e at that time, there 
€an be no doubt but that was the right time. 

The manner of his death was this. We have told 
the reader, that, in the course of this day's fighting, , 
we retook from the tories four of Marion's men, whom 
they had very barbarously beaten with the butts of 
their guns. On being asked how they came to fall 
into such bad company, they said, that immediately 
after sending me off, in the morning, Marion got in- 
formation that a party of tories were encamped not 
far distant, on a plantation of colonel Alston's, called 

** The Penns." Captain M was despatched to 

surprise them ; but he played his cards so badly, that, 
instead of surprising them^ they surprised him^ killed 
several of his men, and took the others. Among the 
prisoners was the general's nephew, lieutenant Gabriel 
Marion, of the continentals, who, happening at that 
time on a visit to his uncle, turned out a volunteer, 
and was taken. The tories murdered several of their 
unfortunate prisoners in cold blood, by first beating 
them over the head with the butts of their muskets, 
and then shooting them. They said that lieutenant 
Marion, at sight of such horrid scenes, appeared much 
shocked: and seeing among them a man who had 
often been entertained at his uncle's table, he Hew to 
him for protection, and threw himself into his arms. 
The man seemed greatly distressed, and tried hard to 
save him ; but the others roared out, that " he was 
one of the breed of that d- — d old rebel," and that 
they would have his hearths blood. They, moreover, 
swore, with the most horrid oaths, that if the man 
did not instantly push young Marion from him, they 
would hlo-w him through also. The unfortunate youth, 
being then thrust from the side of his friend, wa^ im- 
mediately destroyed. 



GEN. FRANC iS MARION. 143 

I hope the tender mercies of God are so great as 
not to let our unworthiness prevent him from always 
doing what is exactly right and good for us. We ought 
not, therefore, to breathe a wish different from the will 
and order of Providence. But still, to us, it seems a 

great pity we did not get notice of captain M 's 

advancing. We could have made a handsome joint 
attack of it, and thereby not only have prevented the 
horrid murders above related, but have scourged 
those barbarians, as they deserved. For we heard 
the firing, but thought it was colonel Alston's people 
killing beeves. 

Among the very few prisoners that we made in our 
last action, was a mulatto fellow, who was suspected 
to be one of those who had murdered the general's 
nephew. Whether the suspicion was well or ill found- 
ed, I cannot say : but, certain it is, that the indigna- 
! tion excited against him, on that account, soon proved 
( his destruction. For, as we were crossing the swamps 
j of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him, 
while marching in the line of prisoners under guard, 
I and with a pistol, shot him dead on the spot. The 
captain of the guard was instantly sent for. and se- 
verely reprimanded by the general, for not having 
killed the author of that sav^age deed. 

It was said the officer had offered a bottle of rum 
to have the mulatto shot, but, finding none that would 
do it, he did it himself. I do not give this as a fact : 
but, I know it was the talk in camp, though carefully 
kept from the general, as every body knew it would 
have given him great pain. He often said, " he truly 
lamented the untimely death of his nephew ; and that 
he had been told, that this poor m.an was his murderer. 
But that, as a prisoner, his life ought to have been 
held most sacred ; especially as the charge against 
him was without evidence, and, perhaps, no better 
than conjecture. As to my nephew," continued he, 
*' I believe he was cruelly murdered : but living vir- 
tuously, as he did, and then dying fighting for the 



THE LIFE OF 

y ights of man, he is, no doubt, happy ; and this is my 
tomfort." 

The next day Marion ordered the troops under 
arms, and formed them into a large circle, all fronting 
the centre. While we were ^vondering what could be 
the meaning of this strange manoeuvre, a sergeant was 
seen leading into the circle an elegant horse, under 
saddle and bridle, with portmanteau, sword, pistols, 
and musket. This was the horse, furniture, and arms 
of captain Lewis, whom the lad Gwinn, so fortunate- 
ly for me, had killed in the action three days before. 
Marion then called Gwinn from the ranks. 

The boy approached him with his hat off. 

The general, placing his hand upon his head, in the 
presence of the whole squadron, pronounced him " a 
brave little man ; and there," pointing to the horse and 
furniture, " there is the reward of your gallantry.'' 

** Gwinn, sir," said I, " is not a good soldier, he 
fired without orders." 

" That's very true,'' replied he, " but I am sure, 
colonel, you are the last that ought to blame me, on 
that account; for if I had not fired and killed captain 
Lewis, exactly as I did, he would have killed you , 
and besides, his saying he was the friend of Georob 
the thirds was enough for me ; I did not think I could 
fire too quick on such a man as that." 

But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led 
up to him the horse, richly furnitured, as aforesaid, 
the confusion and grimace of the lad were truly di- 
verting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around 
and around upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to 
contain himself, or what to do. At length he made 
shift to reach out his hand to the bridle, though deep- 
ly blushing, and said, " Dear me now! well la! what 
will mammy think, and the children, when they come 
to see me, riding up here on this famous horse, and 
all these /?;2ff things I I know well enough how mam- 
my will have a hearty cry, that's what she will ; for 
she vnW think I st$led him. But if any of the folks 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION, 145 

ap our way should go to jaw about me, at that rate, 
I trust as hcxu^ general, you will take my part, and 
set 'em straight." 

Marion smiled, and commended him for a good 
boy, and told him to give his compliments to his 
mother, and also his thanks to her, for being such a 
true mother to her children, in bringing them up so 
honestly. 

But the general was told the next day, that Gwinn 
had said, " he always hated the tories, because they 
would not fight for their country; and, since the ge- 
neral had paid him so well for killing one of them, he 
was determined to try if he could not kill more." 

And he did kill more too, I'll warrant him, for he 
was with us to the end of the war, in many a hard 
! brush. A.nd then he was such a dead shot with a 
I rifle ! Standing, running, or flying, it was all one to 
Gwinn. He would make nothing, at a hundred 
' yards, to stop you a buck, at full tilt through the 
I woods, as hard as he could crack it ; and at every 
\ clip, to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the 
.' tamest trees in the forest. 



146 THE LIFE OF 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Mutiny in our camp — Marion suppresses it-^his ad' 
dress to the offcers* 

THIS war, though on our part a war of virtue, v/as 
not always so pleasant as might have been expected. 
Instances of human weakness often occurred to dis- 
turb our harmony, and fill good men's hearts with 
sorrow. For how, without grief, could we behold a 
man fighting by our side to-day like a /icro, for the 
rights of bleeding humanity; to-morrow, like a head* 
strong- child, or a headlong beast, trampling them un* 
der foot ! And oh ! how sad to see nature's good- 
liest gifts, of manly size, and strength, and courage^ 
set off, too, in the proudest ornaments of war, thd 
fierce cocked hat, the flaming regimentals, and gold* 
en shoulderknots, all defeated of their power to 
charm, nay, all turned into pity and contempt, in con- 
sequence of our knowing the owners to be gamblers, 
swindlers, and villains ! 

Such was the truly pitiable case of some, in ttiis 
our glorious war of liberty. For want of a good edu~ 
cation, I mean the early precepts of virtue, from a 
parent's lips, with a few excellent books, to lift the 
noble kindlings of the soul, the fiame could not ascend^ 
to what was heavenly and just; but with inverted 
point, stuck downward to selfishness and vice. Men 
of this character, though enlisted in the war of liberty, 
were not her soldiers, felt not her enthusiasm, nor her 
consolations. They did not walk the camp, glorying 
in themselves, as men called to the honour of hum- 
bling the tyrant, and of establishing the golden reign 
of equal laws, in their own dear country, and thence, 
perhaps over all the earth. Alas ! no ! strangers to 
these divdne views and wishes, they look no higheir 
than sordid gain ! and as there was but little of that 
kind of pay to be had, they were often gloomy and low 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 147 

sfpirited. " ITieir life/^ they were wont murmuringly 
to say, " was wearing away ; their country gave them 
nothing, and they must e'en try to do something for 
themselves." 

In truth, plunder^ plunder^ was what they were 
spelling for. They were continually darting their 
greedy eyes upon every piece of merchandise that 
came in their way. They had the heart not only to 
plunder the tories, and to bring their unoffending 
children to want ; but also to rob and ruin their own 
frjiends the whigs, if they could but do it with impu- 
nity. 

I am led to these reflections by a most shameful 
affair, which happened in our camp about this time, 
and which threatened consequences as serious as their 
Bource was shameful. 

We were encamped near the house of a rich man 
by the name of Cross. His wife, in sense and domes- 
tic virtues, was an Abigail ; while as to her hus- 
band, his piches, though great, were his least recom- 
mendation, for he possessed all the generosity and 
honour of the noblest patriot. His soul delighted in 
Marion, whom he called lYiQ pillar of our cause. Oft 
fts he took leave of us, for battle, his bosom v/ould 
heave, his visage swell, and the tear Vt^ould start into 
his eye. And when he saw us return again, loaded 
with the spoils of victory c, he would rush to meet us, 
with all a brcther's transports on his face. His flocks 
^nd herds, his meat-houses and corn-fields, were all 
o\iY own ; while his generous looks would tell us that 
he still wished for more to give. Indeed, often at the 
most imminent risk of his life, he used to send us in- 
telligence, and also furnish us with powder and ball. 
But this most am>able of men, was not permitted to 
Bee our cause triumphant; for in the midst of his sighs 
and tears for his struggling country, God took him to 
his own rest. The messenger of death came to him. 
j in the rharacter of a nervous fever. As the phvsi- 



148 THE LIFE OF 

cians did not like to visit him on his plantation, he 
was carried into Georgetown to be near them. 

Marion went to see him the morning he set out ; 
and immediately after his departure, fixed a guard at 
his house, that nothing might be disturbed. One 
would indeed have supposed it unnecessary to place 
a guard over such a house as his. But alas ! what 
will not a base heart-hardening avarice do ! And I 
blush while I relate, that, the very day after our ge- 
nerous friend was carried off, pale and hollow-eyed, 
to Georgetown, whence he never more returned, two 
of our officers, one of them a Major, went to his 
house to pillage it ! 

The guard, of course, opposed : but they dammed 
him for an " impertinent rascal," and swore that if he 
opened his mouth again, they would spit him on the 
spot. Then bursting the door, they went in, and after 
forcing the desks, drawers, and trunks, tiiey rifled 
them of whatever they wanted. 

This most unsoldierly and detestable transaction 
was communicated to me by Mrs. Cross herself j 
whose servant came to me next morning with her 
compliments, and requested that I would go down to 
her, where she was sitting in her carriage at the road. 
I waited on her at once ; and greatly to my grief, 
found her in tears. I entreated to know the cause. 

"Oh, sir," replied she, "we are' ruined! we are 
ruined! Pof»r Mr. Cross is, I fear, on his deathbed. 
And then what will become of me and my poor chil- 
dren, when he is gone, and every thing is taken from 
us !" She then reminded me of her husband's lov^e 
to general Marion and his people, from whom he 
withheld nothing, but gladly imparted of all he had, 
though often at the risk of his utter destruction from 
the British and tories. " And yet, after all," said 
she, " soon as my poor sick husband's back is turned, 
your people can go and break him up !" 

" Madarn," I replied, " I hope 'tis no offence to 
ask your pardon ; for 1 really cannot admit a suspi- 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 149 

cion so disgraceful to our troop : and to my certain 
Knowledge, general Marion placed a guard over your 
house the moment Mr. Cross left it." 

""^ Yes, sir," said she, '' that's very true. And it 
was like general Marion. But some of our officers 
have forced the guard and broken open the house, 
and this instant I saw one of them with Mr. Cross's 
sword by his side." 

I never felt more mortified, in my life. Then, after 
entreating her to be perfectly easy about her house 
and furniture in future, I took leave of this excellent 
lady, and flew to the guard to sec if what I had heard 
were true. 

He told me it was too true ; mentioned the names 
of the officers ; and even went so far as to show me 
one of them strutting about with the sword by his 
side ! 

It was well for the Avretch, that I did not possess 
the eyes of a basilisk, for I should certainly have 
blasted him en the spot. Pausing, however, one 
salutary moment, to confirm myself in the love of 
virtue, by noting how abominable a villain looks, I 
hasted to'the general with the hateful tale ; which ex- 
cited m hi«i honest bosom the indignation which I 
had expected. Then calling one of his aids, he said, 

" Go to major , and desire him to send me Mr. 

Cross's sword immediately." 

The aid was.presently back, but without the sword. 
On being asked by the general, wh}* he had not 
I brought it, he replied ; " The major says, sir, that the 
sword does not belong to Mr. Cross. He says, 
moreover, that if you want the sword, you must go 
for it yourself." 

"VVell, go back," said the general, "and desire 
those two officers to come to me." 

It Avas not for suc!i an affair as this to be kept se- 
cret. Tt too^K wind in a moment ; and by the time 
the two officers were arrived, almost all the field offi- 
C) 



1 THE LIFE OF 

cers had come together to the general's quarters, to 
see how he would act on this extraordinary occasion. 

Inferring from the looks of the two culprits, that 
they meant to test his firmness ; and, willing that 
the company should fully understand the merits of 
the case, he thus addressed us : 

" You well know, gentlemen," said he, " how like 
a brother the proprietor of this plantation has always 
treated us. We never gained a victoiy, but it caused 
him tears of joy ; and however starved by others, by 
him we have ever been feasted. You also know, that 
he is now gone, sick, to Georgetown — there, perhaps, 
to die. Soon as he left us, I placed a guard over his 
house ; but, at the same time, blushed for the reflec- 
tion cast on my men ; all of whom, as I thought, 
would, instead of robbing, have* defended it with 
their lives. But, equally to my astonishment and 
crief, I find I was mistaken. Yes, gentlemen, our 
Friend has been robbed, not by the poor untutored 
privates in the ranks, but by my officers! by those 
who ought to have abhorred such an act! Yes, gen- 
tlemen, two of our brethren in arms — two of our offi- 
cers — forgetting what they owed to you, what they 
owed to me, and, most of all, to their country and to 
themselves, have done this odious deed ! And one of 
them (here he pointed to the major) now wears by 
his side the sword of our sick and injured friend. 

" Well knowing that all men, even the best, have 
too often * done those things which they ought not to 
have done,' I felt it my duty to be as tender with this 
gentleman as possible ; and therefore, sent him a po- 
lite request that he would return the sword : to which 
he was pleased to reply, that "• if I wanted it, I must 
come and take it myself.' Still wishing to settle the 
affair m a way as much to his credit as possible, I 
sent for him to come to me. AnJ now, sir, (address- 
ing the major) I entreat of you. for the last time, to 
give me up that sword." 

»>■ iVa pjreat rudeness he svvore he woiild not. In- 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 151 

B^ ly (svery face was dark : and, biting his lip with 
rage, each officer laid his hand upon his sword and 
looked to the general. One word, nay, one assenting 
look^ and the brute would have been hewed to mince- 
meat in a moment. For my own part, whether I felt 
more, or governed myself less than the rest, I cannot 
say s but looking to the general, I broke out with an 
oath, that if I commanded as he did, / woicld have 
that felloxv hung in Jive mi?iutes. 

"This is no business of yours, sir," replied he, ra- 
ther sternly ; " they are now before me." 

Then looking at the major, still with great benig- 
nity, he said — *'' And do you really mean, sir, not to 
give me up that sv/ord ?" 

" Sir, I will not !" replied the major. 

" Sergeant of the guard !" said the general," bring 
me instantly a file of soldiers !" 

Upon this, the major's colleague, who stood by 
was seen to touch him. 

Seeing the guard coming up with their naked 
weapons, and much anger in their looks, the major 
lost his courage, turned pale, and, in a sadly altered 
tone, whined out, " General, you needed not to have 
called in the guard. I will deliver up the sword. 
Here it is." 

" No, sir, I will not accept it at your hands. Give 
j t to the sergeant." 

To this humiliating order, with much shame and 
blushing, the poor major was constrained to comply. 

Thus, happily, were extinguished the first sparks 
of a mutiny, which, it was once thought, would have 
broken out into a dangerous flame. The cool, dis- 
passionate address which effected this, did not fail to 
produce a proper impression on us all. This the 
general easily perceived iu our looks ; and thereunon 
as was common with him, when any sucn occasion 
served, he arose and addressed us, in, as nearlv as 1 
can recollect, the fcil- ^-.Sng words : 

" When, gent^em?? r i' ^'. catch the spirit of oui 



152 THE LIFE OF 

profession; the spirit of men fighting for a republic /i 
a commontvealth of brothers I that government most 
glorious, where God alone is king! that government 
most pleasant^ where men make and obeij their own 
laws ! and that government most prosperous^ where 
men, reaping as they sow, feel the utmost stimulus 
to every virtue that can exalt the human character 
and condition ! This government, the glory of the 
earthy has ever been the desire of the wise and good 
of ail nations. For this, the Platos of Greece, the 
Catos of Rome, the Tells of Switzerland, the Sidneys 
of England, and the Washingtons of America, have 
sighed and reasoned, have fought and died. In this 
grand army, gentlemen, we are now enlisted ; and 
are combating under the same banners with those 
excellent men of the earth. Then let self-gratulation 
gladden our^very heart, and swell each high-toned 
nerve. With such worthies by our sides, with such 
a CAUSE before our eyes, let us move on with joy to 
the battle, and charge like the honoured champions 
of God and of human rights. But, in the moment 
of victory, let the supplicating enemy find us as 
lovely in mercy, as we are terrible in valour. Our 
enemies are blind. They neither understand nor de-^ 
sire the happiness of mankind. Ignorant, therefore, 
as children, they claim our pity for themselves. And 
as to their widows and little ones, the very thought 
of them should fill our souls with tenderness. The 
crib that contains their corn, the cow that gives them 
milk, the cabin that shelters their feeble heads from 
the storm, should be sacred in our eyes. Weak and 
helpless, as they are, still they are the nurslings of 
heaven — our best intercessors with the Almighty. 
Let them but give us their blessings, and I care not 
how much the British curse. Let their prayers as- 
cend up before God in our behalf, and Cornwallis 
and Tarleton shall yet flee before us, like frightened 
wolves before the well armed shepherds !" 

Such werf^ the words of Marion, in the day whei 



Page IftS. 




General Marion feasting the British Officer on su^eet 
potatoes. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. liS 

he saw in our looks, that our hearts were prepared for 
instruction. And such Avasthe epilogue to the mutiny. 
The satisfaction which it gave to the officers was so 
general and sincere, that I often heard them say after- 
wards, that since the mutiny was suppressed, they 
were glad it happened ; for it had given them an op- 
portunity to hear a lecture, which they hoped would ' 
make them better men and braver soldiers too, as 
long as they lived. 

About this time we received a flag from the ene* 
my in Georgetown; the object of which was, to make 
some arrangements about the exchange of prisoners. 
The flag, after the usual ceremony of blindfolding, 
was conducted into Marion's encam.pment. Having 
heard great talk about general Marion, his fancy had, 
naturally enough, sketched out for him some stout 
figure of a warrior, such as O'Hara or Cornwallis 
himself, of martial aspect and flaming regimentals. 
But what was his surprise, when, led into Marion's 
presence, and the bandage taken from his eyes, he 
beheld in our hero, a swarthy, smoke-dried little 
man, with scarce enough of threadbare homespun to 
cover his nakedness ! and in place of tall ranks, of 
gaily dressed soldiers, a handful of sunburnt yellow- 
legged militia-men ; some roasting potatoes and some 
askep, with their black firelocks and powderhorns 
bring by them on the logs ! Having recovered a little 
from his surprise, he presented his letter to general 
Marion; who perused it, and soon settled every thing 
to his satisfaction. 

The officer took up his hat to retire 

" Oh no '.' buid ^jitt.ion ; it is now about our time 
of dining; and I hope, sir, you will give us the plea- 
sure of your company to dinner." 

At mention of the word dinner^ the British ofllicer 
looked around him ; but to his great mortification, 
could see no sign of a pot, pan, Dutch-oven, or any 
other cooking utensil that could raise the spirits of a 
huncjry man. 



154 THE LIFE OF 

" Well, Tom," said the general to one of his men 
" come, give us our dinner." 

The dinner, to which he alluded, was no other than 
a heap of sweet potatoes, that were very snugly roast- 
ing under the embers, and which Tom, with his pine 
stick poker, soon liberated from their ashy confine- 
ment ; pinching them, every now and then, with his 
fingers, especially the big ones, to see whether they 
were well done or not. Then having cleansed them 
ofthe ashes, partly by blowing them with his breath, 
and partly by brushing them with the sleeve of his 
old cotton shirt, he piled som.e of the best on a large 
piece of bark, and placed the a between the British 
officer and Marion, on the trunk of the fallen pine cy£ 
which they sat. 

" I fear, sir," said the general, " our dinner will 
not prove so palatable to you as I could wish ; but it 
is the best we have." 

The officer, who was a well bred man, took up one 
of the potatoes and affected to feed, as if he had found 
a great dainty; but it was very plain, that he ate 
more from good manners than good appetite. 

Presently he broke out into a hearty laugh. Ma» 
rion looked surprised. " I beg pardon, general," 
said he : "but one cannot, you know, always com- 
mand his conceits. I was thinking how drolly some 
of my brother officers would look, if our government 
were to give them such a bill of fare as this." 

" I suppose," replied Marion, " it is not equal to 
their style of dining." 

" No, indeed," quoth the officer ; " and this, I ima- 
gine, is one of your accidental lent dinners ; a sort of 
a ba?i yan. In general, no doubt, you live a grea* 
deal better." 

" Rather worse," answered the general ; " for oftep 
we don't get enough of this." 

" Heavens !" rejoined the officer. " Bat probably, 
what you lose in yneal you make up in 7nalt , thongb 
stinted in provisions^ you draw nobif pay :?" 



i 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IM 

«Not a cent, sir," said Marion, " not a cent." 
« Heavens and earth ! then you must be m a bad 
box. I don't see, general, how you can stand it. 

"Why sir," replied Marion, with a smile of self- 
approbation, " these things depend on fee mg 

-rhe Englishman said, he " did not believe that it 
would be an easy matter to reconcile /"^fif'/jXt 
soldier's life on general Marion's terms ; alfghtzng 
^nAnopay! and no provhions ha potatoe.^ 

"Whv sir," answered the. general, the K-art is 
ill- and,' when that is much interested a man can 
do '•- !y thing. Many a youth would thmk it hard to 
fnden^hims'elf a sla've for fourteen years But let 
him be over head and cars in love, and with such a 
beTuteous sweetheart as Rachel, and he will think no 
more of fourteen years' servitude than young Jacob 
did Well, now, this is exactly my case. I am in 
love • and my sweetheart is Liberty. Be that hea- 
fenlv mmph mv companion, and these wilds and 
vooL sH havi charms beyond London and Paris 
n slavery. . To have no proud monarch driving 
over meTvith his gilt coaches; nor his host of ex. 
cise-men and tax-gatherers insulting and robbing me, 
b u t^ be mv own master, my own pnnce and soye- 
reL gloriously preserving my national dignity, and 
m rsuiSg my trie happiness ; planting my vineyards, 
and eltfng their luscious fruits ; and sowing my fields 
and r^ap^ng the golden grain : and seeing millions of 
brothers aU around me, equally free and happy as my 
gelf. This, sir, is what I long for. 

The officer replied, that both as a m,an and a Bri- 
ton he must certainly subscribe to this as a happy 

'%lpy'''%th Marion; "yes, happy indeed! 
and I had rather fight for such blessings for my couij- 
t^ and feed on roots, than keep alooi, though wal- 
o^^ing in all the luxuries of Solomon. For now, sir 
I ;;ik the soil that gave me birth and e-Jt >^ *e 
thought that I am not unworthy of it. I look upon 



156 THE LIFE OF 

these venerable trees around me, and feel that I 4 
not dishonour them. I think of my o\vn sacrei 
rights, and rejoice that I have not basely deserted 
them. And when I look forward to the long ages 
of posterit}'-, I glory in the thought that I am fighting 
their battles. The children of distant generations 
may never hear my name ; but still it gladdens my i 
heart to think that I am now contending for their 
freedom^ and all its countless blessings." 

I looked at Marion as he uttered these sentiments^ 
and fancied I felt as when I heard the last words of 
the brave De Kalb. The Englishman hung his ho- 
nest head, and looked, I thought, as if he had seen 
the upbraiding ghosts of his illustrious countrymen, 
Sidney and Hampden. 

On his return to Georgetown, he was asked bv 
colonel Watson why he looked so serious ? 

" I have cause, sir," said he, " to look serious.*' 

" What ! has general Marion refused to treat V 

"No, sir." 

" Well, then, has old Washington defeated sir 
Henry Clinton, and broke up our army V* 

" No, sir, not that neither ; but worsen 

" Ah ! what can be worse ?" 

" '\^Tiy, sir, I have seen an American general and 
his officers, without pay, and almost without clothes, 
living on roots and drinking water ; and all for Li- 
berty! What chance have we against such men!" 

It is said colonel Watson was not much obliged to 
him for this speech. But the young officer was so 
struck with Marion's sentiments, that he never rested 
until he threw up his commission, and retired from 
the service. 



's 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. Uf 



CHAPTER XIX. 

» Ah brandy I branch'! bane of life, 
**Sprin£;' of tmnuit — source of strife: 
« Could I but half thy curses tell, 
" The wise would wish thee safe at hell." 

Curious and Instriictrje Anecdotes, 

CriAT greai poet, John Milton, who seems to 
nave known him well, assures us that the devil was 
the inventor of gunpowder. But, for my own part, 
were I in the humour to ascribe any particular inven- 
tion to the author of ail evil, it should be that of dis- 
tilling apple-brandy. Wt have scripture for it, that 
he began his capers with the apple; then, why not 
go on with the brandy, which is hut the fiery juice 
of the apple ? 

At any rate, I am pretty sure 1 shall hardly ever 
i)e able to think of it again wivh toi^:rable patience, as 
»ong as I live. For, it was that vilc iilthy poison that 
cut me out of one of the finest phxnr s';*; that I ever ex- 
acted to feather my cap with, 
i he case stands briefly thus. 1 have told the 
reader, that Marion surprised and captured the cele- 
brated tory partisan, colonel Tyncs, after killing the 
major part of his m^n. For safe keepiiig, he wa.s 
Aent into North Carolina; whence he made hi.; es- 
I cape — got back into the forests of Black nver, and 
collected a stout force to try his fortune a se^OAid 
time with Mamon. 

But, getting knowledge of the thing, Marion made 
one of his forced marches, fell upon him, unawares, 
! and broke him up worse than before ; killing and 
1 taking his zv/io*t party. Tynes w?«» btnt again to 
. North Carolina; whence he contrived a g.'* in to make 
I nis escape; and, returning to his old haunts, sooii 
( rallied a tormidable force, for a third trial. This 
Inews was ioon brought to general Marion, who there.- 
JH^on, dt'i : rrl ra-: 1: 5 take iottf of our best cavalier?^. 



15S THE LIFE OF 

and see if we could not scourge colonel Tynes once 
more. 

About sunset we mounted, and travelled hard all 
that night and until the middle of next day, when we 
halted, for refreshment, at the house of one who was 
truly a " publican and sinner," for he was a great torij. 

Not knowing what secret intelligence the man 
might convey to the enemy, who were but fifteen 
miles off, I had him taken up and put under guard. ^ 
We tiien got dinner, for which we honourably paid 
the poor woman his wife. And now comes my woful 
story. While, after dinner, I was busily employed 
in catechising my prisoner, iiow should the devil be 
employed, but in tempting my men with the distilled 
juice of the apple ? Having, by some ill luck, found 
out that there was a barrel of it in the house, they 
hastened to the poor landlady, who not only gave 
them a full dose for the present, but filled their bot- 
tles and canteens. 

As we pushed on, after dinner, in high spirits, foi 
the enemy, I could not but remark how constantly 
the men were turning up their canteens. 

*' What the plague have you got there, boys," said 
I, " that you are so eternally drinking." 

" Water ! sir, water ! nothing but water !" The 
rogues were drinking brandy all the time ; but, by 
way of whipping the devil round the stump, they 
called it water I that is, apple -water. 
^ Presently, finding, from their gaiety and frolick- 

someness, what they had been after, I ordered a hal^ 
and set myself to harangue them for such unsoldierly 
conduct. But I might as well have talked to a troop 
of drunken Yahoos. For, some of them grinned in 
my face like monkeys ; others looked as stupid as 
asses ; while the greater part chattered like magpies . 
each boasted what a clever fellow he was, and what 
mighty things he could do, yet reeling all the tim 
and scarcely a^ble to sit his horse. Indeed our gui 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 159 

a fat jolter-headed fellow, fetching one of his heavy 
lee lurches, got so far beyond his perpendicular, that 
be could not right again ; but fell off, and came to 
die ground as helpless as a miller's bag. In short, 
among my whole corps there was but one sober man, 
and that was captain Neilson. 

It is not for language to express one thousandth 
part of my mortification and rage. To have made 
such an extraordinary march, and at the head of such 
choice fellows too ; to have come almost within sight 
of the enemy; an enemy that I was eager to humble, 
and which would have yielded me so complete and 
glorious a victory ; and yet to have lost all so shame- 
fully : and thus like a fool to be sent back to my 
general, with my finger in my mouth., was, indeed, 
almost beyond cr^durance. But I was obliged to en- 
dure it. For, to have led my men into action, in that 
condition, would have been no better than murdering 
them. And to have kept them there until they could 
have cooled off, was utterly out of the question. For 
there was not a family in that whole district that 
would, with their good will, have given us an hour's 
repose, or a morsel of bread. I therefore instantly 
ordered a retreat, which was made with all the noise 
and irregularity that might have been expected from 
a troop of drunkards, each of whom mistaking him- 
self for commander in chief, gave orders according to 
his own mad humour ; and whooped and hallooed at 
such a rate, that I verily believed, no bull-drivers 
ever made half the racket. 

That we should have obtained a most completi; 

i victory, is very certain. For in a few days after this-, 
we laid hands upon some of those very same tories 
who stated, that in consequence of the noise which 

we made that night, colonel Tynes despatched some 

of his cavalry up the road next morning, to see wh?t 
was the matter. On coming to the spot, where I ha ; 

♦.vainly endeavoured to form my drunken dogs, th< 
P ^ 



€■ 




160 "' THE LIFE OF 

found on the ground some of our plumes ; which 
colonel T\Ties no sooner saw than he bawled out, 
" Marion / Marion /" then, leaping on their horses, 
off they went, whip and spur. 

" Well, where is colonel Tynes ?" said the general, 
as I entered his presence. This was the question 
which I had expected, and, indeed, blushed for the 
answer. But after hearing my doleful stor}% he re- 
plied with his usual philosophy : ''' Well, you did right 
to retreat ; but pray keep a careful eye on the apple 
water next time." 

But to give the devil his due, I must confess there 
was one instance, in which I thought some good was 
done by brandy. This was in the Cwise of captain 
Snipes and his command, which by way of farce to 
Tsay own tragedy, I beg leave to relate. 

Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant, 
Marion despatched the brave captain Snipes with a 
party to chastise them. They had scarcely got upon 
the tory cruising-ground, before, at a short turn in the 
road, they came full butt upon a large body of horse- 
men. Supposing them to be tories, Snipes instantly 
gave the word to charge ; himself leading the way 
with his u«ual impetuosity. The supposed tories, 
wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as 
hard as their horses could stave ; and thus, crack and 
crack, they had it for about two miles. 

Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the 
runagates began to lighten themselves of every thing 
they could spare, ?.nd the road was presently strewed 
with blankets ar J knapsacks. One of them, it seems, 
carried a five gidlon keg of brandy, which he could 
not think of parting with : and being well mounted, he 
stood a good pull for the two first miles. But finding 
he was dropping astern very fast, he slyly cut the straps 
of his mail pillion, and so let his keg, brandy and all 
50 by the run, over his horse''s rump. Captain Snipes, 
who lerJ the chase, found i\o dKEculty iu passing tlkc j 



"X. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARUvN. IGI 

keg : lull his men coming up instantly, I loachcd to, wis 
standing; for they could no more fass by a keg a 
brandy, than young monkeys could pass a basket ol 
apples. 

Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all i» 
\ain : for they swore they mimthave a dra?u. While 
they were devising ways and means how to get into 
tWe keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance 
ahead, came to ahalt,and their captain fortunately re- 
veling that thei,r pursuers might not be I'liemies, sent 
back a flag. The result was, the very joyful disrover'/, 
that the owners of the keg were good whiga comlrj^; 
to join general Pylarlon. Thus, to a moral certainty 
thlo keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, the 
happy means of preventing much bloodshed that day 

Having given two cases of brandy, the one good, 
the ovher bad, I will now give a third, which the reader, 
if he pler.ses, may call indifferent^ and which runs as 
follows. 

Gene: ;d Marion, still encamped in the neighbour- 
hood of Georgetown, ordered captain Withers to 
take sergeant Macdonald, with four volunteers, and 
go on the enemy's lines to see what they were doing. 
Q\\ approaching the town, they met an old tory ; one 
of your half-witted fellows, whom neither side re- 
garded any more than a Jew does a pig, and there- 
fore suffered him to stroll when and where he pleased. 
The old man knew captain Withers very well ; and 
as soon as he had got near enough to recollect him, 
he bawled out, " God's mercy, master Withers ! why, 
where are you going this course ?" 

" Going, old daddy ! why to the devil, perhaps," 
replied Withers. 

" Well faith ! that's like enough, captain," said the 
old man, " especially if you keep on this tack much 
longer. But before you go any further, suppose you 
Jake a pull with me of this holding up a stout tickler 



163 THE LIFE OF 

of brand}', mayhap you may not get such good liqitOf 
where you are going/' 

" ^^'idl all my heart, daddy," answered AVithers, 
and twiggVi the tickler to the tune of a deep dram : 
then passed it on to IMacdonald, who also twigg'd it, 
' " and Tom twiggM it, and Dick twiggM it, and Har- 
ry twigg'd it, and so they all twigg'd it/' In the 
mean time the chat wtjnt round very briskly, afW 
dram after dram, the brandy, until the tickler v^ 
drained to the bottom. And then the subtle spi^t 
of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked 
such wonders, that diey all began to feel themselves 
as big as field officers. IMacdonald, for his part, with 
a face as red as a comet, reined up Selim, and draw- 
ing his claymore, began to pitch and prance about, 
cutting and slashing the empty air, as if he had a score 
of enemies befoie him, and ever and anon, roaring 
out — " Huz/a, bovs I damme, let's charge!" 

" Charge, boys I charge !" cried all the rest, rein- 
ing up their horses, and fiotirishing their swords. 

^'" NN'here tne plague are you going to charge ?** 
asked the old tory. 

*^ \Miy, into Georgetown, right otT/' replied they, 

^^ "NVeil, \ouhad better have a caie boys, how you 
charge there, for I'll be blamed if you do not get 
yourselves into business pretty' quick : for the town 
is chock full of red coats." 

" Red coats !" one and all they roared out, '^^ red 
coats ! egad, that's just what we want. Charge, 
boys ! charge ! huzza for the red coats, damme !" 

ITien, clapping spurs to their steeds, off went these 
six young mad-caps, huzzaing and tloun?>hing theii 
swords, and charging at full tilt, into a British gar* 
rison town of three hundred men ! ! 

The enemy, supposing that this was only our ad 
iv?^7jr, and thit general INlarion. with his whole force, 
would presently be upon them, flew with all speed io 
iheir redoubt, and there lav, as snug as flea^ in a 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. IdJ 

»?iccp-«kin. But all of them were not quite so lucky^ 
for several were overtaken and cut down in the streets, 
among whom was a sergeant major, a stout greasy 
fellow, who strove hard to waddle away with hrs 
bacon ; but Selim was too quick for him : and Mac- 
donald, with a back-handed stroke of his clajnnore, 
sent his frightened ghost to join the majority. 

Having thus cleared the streets, our young troo •- 
crs then called at the houses of their friends ; as^*.., 1 
the ?ieTvs; and drank their grog with great unconcern. 

The British, after having for some time vainly 
looked for Marion, began to smell the trick, and in 
great wrath sallied forth for vengeance. Our adven- 
turers then, in turn, were fain to scamper off as fast 
as they had made the others before, but with better 
success ; for though hundreds of muskets were fired 
after them, they got clear without receiving a scratch. 

But nothing ever so mortified the British, as did 
this mad frolic. " That half a dozen d-n-d young 
rebels," they said, " should thus dash in among us in 
open daylight, and fall to cutting and slashing the 
king'^s troops at this rate. And after all, to gallop 
away without the least harm in hair or hide. 'Tis 
high time to turn our bayonets into pitch forks, and 
go to foddering the cows." 



CHAPTER XX. 

History of captain Snipes — xvanton destruction of his 
property by thetories — his oxun miraculous escape — 
admirable fidelity of his negro driver Cudjo. 

CAPTAIN SNIPES, who made such a figure in 
the wars of Marion, was a Carolinian, of uncommon 
strength and courage ; both of which he exerted with 
great good will, against the British and tories ; from 
principle partly, and partly from revenge. But tliough 
a choice soldier, he was no philosopher. He did not 
consider that to fight for duty, people must lovt it • 
P2 



164 THE LIFE OF 

that to love it, they must understand it ; that to un- 
derstand it, they must possess letters and religion : 
that the British and tories, poor fellows ! possessing 
neither of these, were not to have been expected to 
act any otlier than the savage and thievish part they 
did act; and tlierefore, no more to he hated for it 
tlian the cats are for teazing the canary birds. 

But captain Snipes had no turn for investigations 
of this sort. Knowledge, by intuition, was all that 
he cared for ; and having it, by instinct, that an 
" Englishman ought never to fight against liberty," 
nor an ** American ag-ainst his own country," he 
looked on them, to use his own phrase, as a ^* pack 
of d-n-d rascals, whom it was donig God service to 
kill wherever he could find them." 

But Snipes was not the aggressor. He kept in, 
ver}^ decently, till the enemy began to let out, as they 
did, in plwuiering^ burning'^ and hanging' the poor 
whigs ; and then, indeed, like a consuming fire, his 
smothered hate broke fortli : 

"That hate which hurled to Pluto^s gloomy reign, 
'* The souls of i*oyal slaves untimely slain." 

Afraid, in fiir fight, to meet that sword which had 
so often shivered their friends, they determined to 
take him as the Philistines did Sampson, by surprise ; 
and having learned from their spies, that he was at 
home, they came upon him in force about midnight. 
His complete destruction, both of life and property, 
was their horrid aim. Happily, his driver, or black 
overseer, overheard their approach ; and flving to his 
master with terror-struck looks, cries out " Run ! run ! 
massa, run ! de enemy 'pop you." 

Snipes, stark naked, save his shirt, darted out ay 
swift as his legs could carry him. 

** But where shall I run, Cudjo ? into tlie barn ?" 
** Oh no, massa ! iley burn de barn, dat sure ting !** 
" Well, where shall I run then V 
** Take de bush massa ! take de hn :r bush." 



GEN FRANCIS MARION. 16J 

Within iil'ty yards of the house was a clump of 
briers, so thick set, that one would have thought a 
frightened cat would scarcely have squeezed herself 
into it from the hot pursuing dogs. But what will 
not fear enable a man to do? Captain Snipes, big as 
he was, slipped into it with the facility of a weasel 
through the chinks of a chicken-coop ; but lost every 
thread and thrum of his shirt; and moreover, got 
h is hide so scratched and torn by the briers, that the 
blood trickled from him fast as gravy from a fat 
green goose. 

Scarcely had he gained his hiding-place, before the 
tories, with horrid oaths, burst into his house, with 
their guns cocked, ready to shoot him. But oh ! 
death to their hopes ! he was gone : the nest was there, 
and xvarm, but the bird was flown ! 

Then seizing poor Cud jo by tlie throat, they bawl- 
ed out : " You d — d rascal, whereas your master ?'* 

He told them he did not know. 

" You lie ! you black son of a l)-t-h ! you lie." 

But he still asserted he knew nothing of his master. 

Suspecting that he must be in some one or other 
of his L«aildings, they set fire to them all ; to his 
dwelling house, his kitchen, his stables, and even his 
negro cabins, watching all the while, with their 
muskets ready to shoot him as he ran out. From 
their nearness to his lurking place, the heat of his 
burning houses was so intense as to parch his skin 
mto blisters. But it was death to stir, for he would 
certainly have been seen. 

Not having made the disco\ ery they so much wish- 
ed, they again seized Cudjo ; and, with their cocked 
pieces at his breast, swore if he did not instantly tell 
them where his master was, they would put him to 
death. 

He still declared he did not know where he wa*. 

Then they clapped a halter round his neck, and toJ'* 



166 THE LIFE OF 

i.im to "down on his knees, and say his prayers ^ 
once, for he had but two minutes to live !'* 

He replied, thitt he *^ did not want to say hit 
prayers now, for that he was no thief, and had always 
been a true slave to his master." 

This fine sentiment of the poor black was entirely 
lost on our vialigmant whites ; who, throwing the end 
of the halter over the limb of an oak, tucked him up 
as though he had been a mad dog. He hung till h«i 
was nearly dead ; when one of them called out, 
" D — ^n him, cut him down, I'll be bound he'll tell us 
now." Cudjo was accordingly cut down ; and, aa 
soon as a little recovered, questioned again about his 
master. But he still declared he knew nothing of him. 
He was then^"'>isted a second time ; and a second tmie, 
when nearly dead, cut down and questioned as before ; 
but still asserted his ignorance. The same inhuman 
part was acte'^ on him a third time, but with no becier 
success ; for tne brave fellow still continued faithful 
to his master, who squatted and trembled in his place 
of torment, his brier bush, and saw and heard all that 
was passing. 

Persuaded now that Cudjo really knew nothing of 
his master, they gave up the shameful contest, and 
went o/T, leaving him half dead on tht- ground, but 
covered with glory. 

It is not easy to conceive a situation more severely 
torturing than this of captain Snipes. HJ«i house, with 
all his furniture, his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks, 
his stables, with several line horses, and his neq:ro 
houses, all wrapped in tlames ; himself scorch^^d and 
blistered witli the furious heat, yet not darinc;; to stir; 
his retreat well known to a poor slave ; and that 
slave alone, in the hands of an enraged banditti, with 
their muskets at hif> breast, imprecating the most hor- 
rid curses on themselves, if they did not instantly 
murder him unless he disclosed the secret! What 
l>«d he to expect of this poor slave, but that he would 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. I6f 

sink under the dreadful trial, and to save himself 
would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. Tc 
discover his hiding-place, deatli stared his slave ii 
\he face, Init, happily, his slave possessed for him thai 
*' love which is stronger than death." 

Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought 
up from childhood together; and the father of our 
hero being a professor of Christianity, a Baptist 
preacher, whose main excellence is " to teach little 
children to love one another," had taken great jxiins 
to inspire his son with love towards his little slave. 
Nor did that love pass unrequited. For Cudjo used 
every day to follow his young master to school, cai 
rying his basket for him, prattling as he went; and 
smiling, would remind him of the coming Saturday^ 
and what fine fishing and hunting they would have that 
day. Many a time had they v/restled, and slept side 
by side on the green ; and thence springing up again 
with renovated strength, set out in full march for some 
favourite fruit tree, or some cooling pond, there to 
swim and gambol in the refreshing fi ./od. And when 
the time of dinner came, Cudjo was not scornfully 
left to sigh and to gnaw his nails alone, but would 
play and sing about the door till his young mastei 
was done, and then he was sure to receive a good 
plate full for himself. Love, thus early ingrafted on 
his heart, grew up with daily increasing strength to 
manhood ; when Snipes, by the death of his father, 
became master of the estate, made Cudjo his driver 
or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom 
that sacrfilfriemls/iip v/hich, as we have seen, enabled 
him to triumph in one of the severest trials that hu- 
i*\an niitui^ was ever j)ut to. 

The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will lay 
»t to heart. 



166 THE LIFE OF 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Marion pursues ynajor Mucklexvorth-^Jine anecdote oj 
the major — Marion^s gejierosity to him. 

LEARNING that a detachment of the British were 
marching up Black river towards Statesburgh and 
Camden, general Marion gave orders to chase ; which 
was conducted, as usual, with such rapidity, that 
about sunset of the second day we came up with them. 
Our advance^ composed of choice fellows, instantly 
began to skirmish with the enemy, of whom they 
killed eight or nine. A few on both .sides, rather 
badly wounded, were made prisoners. Marion, 
coming up, gave orders to call off the troops, meaning 
to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning.— 
But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us, 
by striking their tents and pushing off in silence be- 
fore day. 

Soon as light returned, and tlie retreat of the British 
was announced, we renewed the pursuit ; and by late 
breakfast-time, reached the house at which the enemy 
had refreshed themselves. This house belonged to a 
poor, but excellent old lady, well known to 5larion. 

The general was hardly alighted from his horse, be- 
fore the old lady had him by the hand, declaring ho^y 
happy she had ahuays been to see him, " but now,'* 
continued she, " if I an't right down sorry to see you 
then I'll be hanged." 

Marion, with a look of surprise, asked her why she 
was sorry to see him iioxv. 

" Oh ! don't I know you too well, general ? don't 1 
know that old Scratch himself can't keep you from 
fighting ? And now you are hurrying along here, 
with all your men, only to fight the British. An't ii 
so now, general ?" 

Marion told her, that that was indeed his business^ 

^* Well, dear me now ! and did I not tell you so l 
But pray now, my dear general Marion, let me h^j^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 169 

of you, don't you do any harm to that dear good man 

that major Muckleworth, who went from here a little 

while ago : for O ! he's the sweetest-spoken, mildcsi 

looking, noblest-spirited Englishman I ever saw in all 

my born days. As to that Rawdon and Tartlcton 

,. God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards ! 1 

I; would not care if you could kill a thousand of them 

<■: But that good major Muckleworth ! indeed, indeed 

now general, you must not hurt a hair of his head, 

for it would be such a crying sin." 

Marion asked her in what respects was he better 
than other British officers. 

" Better than other British officers !" replied the old 
lady. — '•'' Lord bless your dear soul, general Marion ! 
Well, come along, come along with me, and I'll let 
you see." 

We followed the old lady, who, tripping along 

aimble as a girl, conducted us into a clean looking 

cabin, wherein sat a middle-aged man very genteelly 

dressed, and several wounded persons lying before 

him, on pallets on the floor. Marion saluted the 

^^ stranger, who informed us that he was " a surgeon in 

the service of his Britannic majesty, and left by major 

I Muckleworth to take care of the wounded ; of whom, 

sir, I believe that nearly one half are your ozv7ime?i,'** 

Here the old lady's face brightened up toward* 

I Marion ; and giving him a very significant look, she 

I said, " Ah ha, general ! didn't I tell you so ?" 

I Then diving her withered hand in her pocket, she 

scooped up a shining parcel of English guineas, and 

fcxultingly cried out, **• See there, general ! see there's 

j a sight for you ? and every penny of it given me by 

( that dear good gentleman, major Muckleworth ; every 

penny of it, sir. Yes, and if you will but believe me, 

general, when I and my daughters were getting 

breakfast for him and his people, if he didn't come 

here himself with his sergeants, and had this place 

•wept out all so sweet and clean for them poor sick 

jpeople J and^ with his own dear hands too, helped that 



170 THE LIFE OF 

gentleman there to dress and doctor the poor things j 
diat he did. 

" And then besides all that, general, he was such a 
sweet spoken gentleman ! for when I asked him how 
his men came to be hurt so, he did not, like that beast 
Tarleton, turn black and blue in the face, and fall to 
cursing the d — d rebels. Oh no ! not he indeed. But 
he said with a smile. We got them wounded last 
night, madam, in a little brush with your brave coun- 
tryman, general Marion. 

" Now only think of that, general ! And besides, 
when he was going away, what do you think he did ? 
Why, sir, he sent for me and said. Well, my good 
madam, and what shall I pay you for all the trouble 
we have given you, and also for taking care of the 
doctor I am going to leave with you, and the sick peo- 
ple, who may be on your hands for a fortnight yet? 

" I told him it was no business of mine to fix a price. 

" He seemed surprised, and asked me Virhat 1 meant 
Dy that. 

" I answered that I was now all one as his prisoner^ 
and prisoners had nothing they could call their own. 

"My king, said he, madam, does not make war 
against widows. 

" I told him I wished to God all his countrymen had 
remembered that I it would have saved the hunger and 
nakedness, and cries and tears of many a poor widow 
and orphan. At this he seemed mightily hurt. 

" I then told him tliat many of the British officers, 
after eating and drinking all that they wanted, for 
themselves and people, and horses, instead of turn- 
ing round to paify as he had done, had turned in to 
ylunder^ and then set fire to the houses, not leaving 
the widows and children a cover over their heads, 
nor a bit of bread for their mouths, nor a stitch of 
clothes for their backs. 

"My God! said ht, and is this the way that my 
countrymen have come here to carry on war ! Well 
madam, (so he went on,) my king does not know any 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. m 

tiling of this, nor does the English nation, I am sure- 
If they did, they would certainly call those officers to 
Account. Such men will ruin our cause. For the 
word of God assures us, that his ear is always open 
to the cry of the widow and orphan j and believe me, 
madam, I dread their cry more than I do the shouts 
of an enemy's army. However, madam, (continued 
he,) I have not a moment to lose, for I am sure 
general Marion is pursuing me as hard as he can, so 
let me know what I owe you. 

"I told him again, I made no charge ; but since he 
was so good as to insist on givmg me something, I 
begged to leave the matter entirely to himself. Upon 
which, after a moment's study, he looked at me and 
said, Well, madam, suppose we say sixpence sterling 
a~pie»ce man and horse, all around, will that do ? I 
replied that was too much, a gi'eat deal too much, foi- 
such a poor breakfast as I had given him and lus 
men. Not a penny too much, inadam^ said he, live and 
kt live is the royal law, madam, and here's your mo- 
ney. With that he put all these guineas here, into 
my hand ! and said moreover, that if the doctor and 
sick people should be longer with me, and give me 
more trouble and cost than we had counted on, then I 
must sena a note to him, at such a house in Charles- 
ton, and he would send me the money. And now, 
general, would it not be a burning shame to go kill 
such a dear good gentleman as that V 

Marion listened v/ith delight to the old lady's his- 
tory of this amiable officer ; but on her leaving him 
to hasten our breakfast, he looked very pensive, and 
at a loss what to do. However, as soon as the troops 
were refreshed, he ordered my brother, colonel H. 
Horry, who led the advance, to remount, and push 
after the enemy with all speed. We followed close 
in the rear. For an hour the general did not open 

1 his mouth, but rode on like one absorbed in thought. 

I At length heaving adeepsigh,he said " Well, I sup* 



172 THE LIFE OF 

pose I feel now very much as I should feel, were I 
m j:)ursiiit of a brother to kill him." 

About three oV'lock our advance came up with the 
enemy, near the wealthy and hospitable captain John 
Singleton's mills, wliere the fusing instantly com- 
menced, and was as spiritedly returned by the British, 
still retreating. Our marksmen presently stopped one 
of Muckleworth's captains, and several of his men, 
who lay dead on the ground at the very spot where 
we happened to join the advance. The sight of these 
poor fellows lying in their blood, gave the genei*al'» 
wavering mind the casting vote in favour of generosi- 
ty j for he immediately cried out, '■''Call off the troops I 
call off the troops /" Then turning to his aid he said, 
** I cannot stand it any longer ; we owe yon English- 
Hien to our injured country ; but there is an angel 
that guard? them. Ten righteous Lots would have 
saved Sodom. One generous Muckleworth shall save 
this handful. Let us turn and fight other enemies.'*' 

The general's orders were quickly passed on to the 
troops to cease firing. A'lid to their credit be it 
spoken, they never, I believe, obeyed his orders w^ith 
more alacrity than on this occasion. Indeed I heard 
many of them say, afterwards, that major Muckle- 
worth*s generosity to their wounded comrades and 
to the poor widows had so won their hearts to him, 
that they had none left wherewith to fight against 
him ; and they said also, that, for their parts, they 
had rather kill a thousand such savages as Rawdor 
and Tajleton, than hurt a hair of major Muckle« 
worth's head. 

From the effect produced on our troops, by thif. 
amiaMe officer's condj'ct, I have been often led to 
think favourably of a saying common with Marion, 
viz. bad the Bricish officers but acted as became a 
wise and magnanimous enemy, they might easily 
have recovered the revolted colonies. 

Never did the pal?=e of lore towards a parent state 
beat ntronger in hvimac b-iscTr:>.5 than in those of the 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ira 

If 

Cai-olmians towards Britain. V/e looked on her as 
indeed our mother, and on her children as our bro- 
thers. And ah ! had their government but treated 
us with correspondent kindness, Carolina would have 
been with them to a man. Had they said to the peo- 
ple, as they might easily have done, (for there v/as 
time, and a long time too, when the whole state waa 
entirely at their feet,) had they then said to us, " We 
are far richer, far stronger, than you ; we can easily 
burn your houses, take your provisions, carry off youi 
cattle, and sweep your country with the besom of 
destruction; but we abhor the idea. Your houses^, 
your women, your children, are all sacred in our eyes ; 
and even of your goods we will touch nothing with- 
out giving you a reasonable price." Had they but 
said this, Carolina v/ould, to a certainty, have been 
divorced from Congress, and re-wedded to Britain* 

We may lay what emphasis we please on the term 
countrymen^ countrymen I but after all, us Christ says, 
" he is our countryman who showeth mercy unto us." 

A British officer, a major Pvluckle worth, for exam- 
ple, calls at rny plantation, and takes my fine horses 
jind fat beeveSj my pigs, poultrv and grain ; but at 
parting, launches out forme afistfull of yellow hoys t 
On the other hand, an American officer calls and 
sweeps me of every thing, and then lugs odt a bundle 
of continental proc I such trash, that hardly a cow 
would give a corn shock for a horse load of it. 

The Englistiman leaves me richer than he found 
me, and abler to educate and provide for my chil- 
dren : the American leaves me and my family half 
ruined. Noav I wish to know where, in such a self- 
ish world as this, where is there a man in a miUioh, 
but would take part with the generous Englishman, 
and fight for him ? 

This was the theory of Marion ; and it was the 
practice of Muckleworth, whom it certainly saved to 
the British; and would, if universal, have saved Ca- 
.rolina and Georgia to them too; and perhaps, dU 



174 THE LIFE OF 

America. But so little idea had they of this mode of 
conciliating' to conquer^ that when the good majoi 
Muckleworth returned to Charleston, he was hooted 
at by the British officers, who said he might do Avell 
enough for a chaplain, or a methodist preacher, for 
what they knew, but they'd be d — n — d if he were fit 
to be a British major. 

The truth is, such divine philosophy was too refined 
for such coarse and vulgar characters, as Cornwallis, 
Rawdon, Tarleton, Balfour, and Weymies ; monsters 
who disgraced the brave and generous nation they 
represented, and completely damned the cause they 
were sent to save. But what be'tter was to have been 
expected of those, who, from early life, if tradition 
say true, discovered a total dislike to the ennobling 
pleasures of literature and devotion, !)ut a boundless 
passion for the brutalizing sports of the bear-garden 
and cockpit ? Bull-baiters, cock-fighters, and dog 
worriers, turned officers, had no idea of conquering 
the Americans, but by " cutting their throats or 
knocking out their brains ;" or as the tender hearted 
Cornwallis commanded, by " hanging them, and tak- 
ing away, or desti-oying their goods." 

Now Satan himself could have couni»< Ued my lord 
better than that; as any man may seCf who will buU 
open his bible and turn to the book of Job, chap. iM^ 
1st, verse 6th, and so on. There Moses informs^ thar,^ 
when Satan, whose effrontery is up to any thing, pre ' 
sented himself at the grand levec^ the Almighty vtxy 
civilly asked him, (now mind that, saints^ in yoiii^ 
speech to poor sinners) — the Almighty, I say, vev^ 
civilhf asked him " where he had been of late." 

To this, his royal highness, the brimstone king, re- 
plied, that he had been only taking a turn or two " up 
and down the earth." 

The divine voice again interrogated : " Hast thou 
considered my servant Job? an excellent man, is hf 
not ; one who leareth God and escheweth evil ?" 

" Job's well enough," replied Satan, rather pertly 



GEN. FRANCIS MARK^N. 175 

' but where's the ^voiKler of all that ? You have done 
^reat things for the fellow ; voli have planted a hedge 
around him, and around all that he hath on every side. 
You have blessed the works of his hands, and his 
substance is increased in the land; and if, after all 
this, he cannot afford you a little gratitude, he must 
be a poor devil indeed. But put forth thhie hand iioxv, 
and touch all that lie hath^ and he* II curse thee to thy 
face!'"' 

This was the devil's logic as to Job : but the British 
general had not the wit to reason in that style towards 
the Americans. For ray lord Cornv/allis said unto 
my lord Rawdon ; and my lord Rawdon said un>to 
my 7V0uld-bc lord, colonel Tarleton; and colonel 
Tarleton said unto major Weymies ; and m.ajor 
Weymies said unto Will Cunningham, and unto the 
British soldiers v/ith their tory negro allies ; ^^ Put 
forth your hands, boys, and burn, and plunder the 
d-n-d rebels ; and instead of cursing you to your face, 
they will fall down and kiss your feet." 

" Experieace," says Doctor Franklin, ^' is a dear 
school; but fools will learn in no other, and hardly 
m that.-' And wliat right had lord Norih to expect 
j*ucces3 in America, when for ofiicers he sent such 
fools as would take no lesson either from God or devil. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

^oloiiel IVatson aitempts to .surprise Marion — is out' 
^eneraled^ and after much loan driven back to GeorgC' 
town, 

IN consequence of his incessant attacks on tlie 
Critish and tories, Marion v/as, I 'relieve, heartily 
hated by them, as ever Sampson was by the Philis- 
tines, or George ^Vhitefield by the devil. Numerous 
were the attem]:>ts made by tlieir best officers to sur- 
< prise him; but such was his ov/n viguance and the 
(idelitv of his whig: friends- thnt lie seldom failed ^3 
Q2 



1JF6 THE LIFE OF 

get the first blow at them, and to take their unwary 
feet in the same evil net which they had spread for him/ 

His method to anticipate the meditated malice of 
his enemies, is well worthy of notice. He always had 
m his service a parcel of active young men, generally 
selected from the best whig families, and of tried, 
courage and fidelity. These, mounted on the swiftest 
horses, he would station in the neighbourhood of those 
places where the British and tories were embodied in 
forc€, as Camden, Georgetown, &c. with instructions 
to leave no stratagem untried to find out the intended 
movements of the enemy. Instantly as this informa- 
tion was obtained, (whether by climbing tall trees 
that overlooked the garrisons, or irova friends acting 
as market people) they were to mount and push off 
at full speed to the nearest of a cham of posts estab- 
lished at short and convenient distances, with fleet 
horses ready saddled and bridled, to bear the intelli- 
gence with equal speed, the first to the second, the 
second to the third, and so on. In this expeditious 
method, as by a telegraph, Marion was presently no 
tificd of the designs of the enemy. Of the exceeding 
importance of such a plan, we had a very striking 
proof at this time. Exasperated against Marion, for 
the infinite harm he did the royal cause in Carolina, 
the British general, in Camden, determined to surprise 
him at his old place of retreat, Snow's Island; and 
thus destroy or break hi^n up completely. To this end 
he despatched a couple of favourite ofhcers, colonels 
Watson and Doyle, with a heavy force, both cavalry 
and infantry, to seize the lower bridge on Black river 
and thereby efTectually prevent our escape. But the 
vigilance 2uid activity of his scouts frustrated thid 
well-concerted plan entiiely. Gettirg early notice of 
this manoeuvre by captain, now general Canty, Ma- 
rion Instantly started his troops, composed chiefly of 
mounted riflemen and light dragoons, and pushed hard 
for the same point. By taking a nearer cut, v,*c had 
the good fortune to gain the bridge before the enemy ^ 



I 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. in 

and having destroyed it as soon as we crossed, we 
concealed ourselves in the dark swamp, anxiously 
waiting their arrival. In a short time, they came in 
full view on the opposite hill, and there encamped.— 
Presently, unapprehensive of danger, for they saw 
nothing oip us, two of their men came down for water 
to the river. Unable to resist such a temptation, two 
of our noted marksmen instantly drew their sights and 
let fly. The two Englishmen fell ; one of them was 
killed dead ; the other badly wounded, and so fright- 
ened, that he bellowed like a bull-calf for help. Seve- 
ral of his gallant comrades ran to his assistance, but 
they were shot down as fast as they got to him. 

The next morning colonel Watson sent a flag over 
to Marion, whom he charged with carrying on war in 
a manner entirely different from all civilized nations. 
" Why sir,'^ said he to Marion, " you must certainly 
command a horde of savages, who delight in nothing 
but murder. I can't cross a swamp or a bridge, but I 
am waylaid and shot at as if I were a mad dog. 
Even my sentries are fired at and killed on their 
posts. Why, my God, sir ! this is not the way that 
Christians ought to fight !" 

To this Marion replied, that "he was sorry to be 
obliged to say, that from what he had knov/n of them, 
the British officers were the last men on earth who 
had any right to preach about honour and Immanity, 
That for men to come three thousand miles to plun- 
der and hang an innocent people, and then to tell that 
petjple hoiv they ought tojight^ betrayed an ignorance 
and impudence which he fain would hope had no pa- 
rallel in the history of man. That for his part, he al- 
ways believed, and still did believe that he should be 
doing God and his country good service to surprise 
and kill such men, while they continued this diaboli- 
cal warfare, as he would the wolves and panthers of 
the forest." 

Thus ended the correspondence for that time. 

While things remained in this state betv/een the 



178 THE LIFE OF 

hostile parties, Macdonald, as usual, was eniploying 
himself in a close and bold reconnoitre of the eiiemy's 
camp. Having found out the situation of their sen- 
tries, and the times of relieving them, he climbed up 
into a bushy tree, and thence, with a musket loaded 
with pistol bullets, cracked away at their guard 
as they passed by; of whom he killed one man, and 
badly wounded the lieutenant, v/hose name was Tor- 
quano ; then sliding down the tree, he mounted his 
swift-footed Selim, and made his escape. 

The next morning colonel Watson sent anotlier flag 
to Marion, requesting that he would grant a passport 
to his lieutenant Torquano, who was badly wounded, 
and wished to be carried to Charleston. On receiving 
the flag, which happened while I was by him, Marion 
turned to me, and with a smile said, " Well, this note 
of colonel Watson looks a little as if he were coming 
to his senses. But \vho is lieutenant Torquano T' 

I replied that he was a young Englishman, who had 
been quartered in Charleston, at the house of that 
good whig lady^ Mrb. Brainford and her daughters, 
whom he had treated very politely, and often pro- 
tected from insults. 

" Well," said he, " if that be lieutenant Torquano,he 
must be a very clever fellow ; and shall certainly have 
a passport to Charleston, or even to Paradise, if I 
had the keys of St. Peter." 

On repassing Black river in haste, Macdonald had 
left his clothes behind him at a poor woman's house, 
where the enemy seized them. By the return of the 
flag just mentioned, he sent word to colonel Watson, 
that if he did not immediately send back his clothes, 
he would kill eight of his men to pay for them. 

Several of W^atson's officers who were present when 
the message was delivered, advised him by all means, 
to return his clothes, for that they knew him to be a 
most desperate fellow^ one who would stop at nothing 
he set his head upon; witness his late daring act of 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. X79 

iKmbing like a cougar, into a tree, to kill his passing 
enemies. Watson sent him back his wallet of clothes. 

Soon after this, the enemy decamped silently in 
ciie night, and took the road towards Santee. On the 
return of day announcing their flight, Marion order- 
ed me to take the mounted riflem.en, thirty in number, 
with fifty horse, and pursue and harass the enemy as 
much as possible, till he could come up with the in* 
fantry. 

About night I approached their encampment, and 
halted in a neighbouring swamp ; whence I continued 
to send out small parties, frequently relieved, with 
orders to pop away at their sentinels, and keep them 
alarmed and under arms all night. At daybreak 
they pushed hard for the sandpit bridge. We follow- 
ed close in the rear, constantly firing on them from 
every thicket and swamp ; and often, in spite of their 
field pieces, making false charges. Never did I see 
a body 'jf infantry ply their legs so briskly. The 
rogues WL-re constantly in a dog trot, except when they 
occasionally halted to give us a blast, which they did 
from their whole line. But though their bullets made ' 
a confounded whizzing and clatter among the branches 
over our heads, yet thank God they did no harm, save 
that of scratching some three or four of us. 

On coming within a few miles of it, we made a 
rapid push for the bridge, which we quickly rendered 
impassable, by throwing off the plank and sleepers. 
Then having posted my riflemen in the thick woods, 
within fifty yards of the ford, under command of 
lieutenant Scott, I drew up my cavalry close in the 
rear, and waited impatiently for the enemy, hoping to 
give a handsome Bunker's Hill account of them. 

The enemy were presently in sight, and formed in 
close column, began to push through the fording 
place, though full waist deep. My heart now throb- 
bed with anxiety ; looking every moment for a stream 
of fire to burst upon the British, spreading destructioTi 
through their ranks. 



180 ' THE LIFE OF 

But, to my infinite mortification, no lightnings 
bursted forth ; no thunders roared ; no enemy fell. 
As, half choked with grief and rage, I looked around 
for the cause, behold ! my brave lieutenant Scott, at 
the head of the riiemen, came stooping^ along with 
his gun in his hand, and the black marks of shame 
and cowardice on his sheepish face. " Infamous pOf 
troon^'' said I, shaking my sword over his head, 
*'*' where is that hecatomb of robbers and murderers diit 
to the vengeance of your injured country ?'*'' 

He began to stammer out some apology, which I 
quickly suppressed, by ordering him out of my sight. 
It is worthy of remark, that his men, instead of apo- 
logising for him, called him a coward to his face, and 
declared that it was he who had restrained them by 
telling them they were flanked by the enemy, who 
would assuredly cut them to pieces if they fired a shot. 

As the advance of the British were tlius undisturb- 
edly passing on, a heavy firing was suddenly heard in 
the rear. It was Marion; who, having come up with 
the enemy, had attacked him with great fury. The 
British did not halt, but continued a running fight 
through the woods till they gained the open fields; 
where, by means of their artillery, they kept us at a 
distance. In this rencontre, Watson had his horse kill- 
ed under him, and left about twenty of his men dead 
on the ground. His wounded filled several wagons. 

He did not halt a moment, but pushed hard for 
Georgetown ; and late at night encamped on the 
plantation of Mr. Trapier, to whom he told a dread- 
ful story about Marion and his darancd rebels^ v/ho 
would not, as he said, sleep and fight like gentlemen^ 
but, like savages, were eternally firing and whooping 
around him by night; and by day, waylaying and 
popping at him from behind every tree he went by. 

As it was too late to pursue the enemy, Marion 
encamped for the night near the field of battle, and 
next morning marched for his old post. Snow's Island, 
where he allowed us a few days of welcome repose 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 181 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Patriotism of Mrs. Jenkins — colonel Watson^ colonel 
Doyle^ and the tories^ moke alarming advances upon 
general Marion — his men begin to desert him — Hoy' 
ry turns orator^ and harangues the troops — then re- 
peat their assurances of patriotism and attachment t') 
Marion — he dashes out again upon the enemy — pros 
ttects brighten — and the good old cause begins to 
look up again. 

IT was not for the British and Marion to He long 
at rest in the same neighbourhood. After a short 
repose, colonel Watson, with a stout force of regulars 
and tories, made an inroad upon Pedee ; which was 
no sooner known in our camp, than Marion pushed 
after him. We presently struck their trail; and aftei 
a handsome day's run, pitched our tents near the 
house of the excellent widow Jenkins, and on the very 
spot which the British had left in the morning. Co 
lonel Watson, it seems, had taken his quarters that 
night in her house ; and learning that she had three 
Bons with Marion, all active young men, he sent for 
her after supper, and desired her to sit down and take 
a glass of wine with him. To this request, a good 
did lady of taste and manners could have no objcc- 
iion : so waiting upon the colonel, and taking a chair 
which he handed her, she sat down and emptied her 
jajlass to his health. He then commenced the follow- 
ing conversation with her, 

" So, madam, they tell me you have several sons in 
general Marion's camp ; I hope it is not true." 

She said it v/as very true, and v/as only sorry that 
it was not a thousand times truer. 

*' A thousand times trtier, madam /" replied he with 
great surprise, ''^ pray what can be your meaning' tn 
that r' 

" Why, sir, I am only sorry that in place of three ^ 
have not thret thousand scnfi v/ith general Marion.'' 

^"^ A'^e indeed' v/dl then madani, begging youj 



I 



182 THE LIFE OF 

pardon, you had better send for them immediately 
to come in and join his majesty's troops under my 
command : for as they are rebels now in arms against 
their king, should they be taken they will be hung as 
sure as ever they were born." 

" Why, sir," said the old lady, " you are very con- 
siderate of my sons ; for which at any rate I thank 
you. But, as you have begged my pardon for giving 
me this advice, I must beg yours for not taking it. 
My sons, sir, are of age, and must and will act for 
themselves. And as to their being in a state of re- 
bellion against their king^ I must take the liberty, sir, 
to deny that.'''* 

" What, madam P"* replied he, '''•not in rebellion 
against their king ? shooting at and killing his majes- 
ty's subjects like wolves ! don't you call that rebellion 
against their king, madam ?" 

" No, sir," answered she : " they are only doing 
iheir duty., as God and nature commanded them, sir." 

" The d — / they are, madam .'" 

" Yes, sir," continued she, *' and what you and 
every man in England would glory to do against the 
King, were he to dare to tax you contrary to your 
own consent and the constitution of the realm. 'Tis 
the king, sir, who is in rebellion against my sons, and 
not they against him. And could right prevai 
against might, he would as certainly lose his head, as 
ever king Charles the First did." 

Colonel Watson could hardly keep his chair under 
the smart of this speech : but thinking it would never 
do for a British colonel to l^e rude to a lady, he filled 
her glass, and saying, "he'd be d — n — d if she were 
not a very plain-spoken woman at any rate," insisted 
she would drink a toast with him for all. 

She replied she had no objection. 

Then filling the glasses round, he looked at her 
with a constrained smile, and said^ " Well, madam, 
f re's George the Thir.V 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 183 

" With all my heart, sir !" and turned ofFher bum- 
per with a good grace. 

After a Jecent interval of sprightly conversation 
he called on the widow for a toast ; who very smartly 
retorted, " Well, sir, here's George Washington !'''' At 
which he darkened a little, but drank it off with an 
officer*like politeness. 

The next morning early, we left the good Mrs. 
Jenkins ; and burning with impatience to give Wat- 
son another race, we drove on Jehu-like. 

We encamped that night almost within sight of the 
enemy's fires : but found them too much on the alert 
for surprise. We kept, however, a good look out, and 
learning next morning, that a roosting party were out, 
Marion detached my brother colonel Horry, with 
some choice cavaliers, to attack them ; which he did 
with such spirit, that at the first onset he killed nine, 
and made the balance, sixteen, all prisoners. The 
rogues were so overloaded with plunder that for 
their lives they could not regain their camp, though 
in full view of it v/hen they were charged. This 
brilliant stroke of my brother, threw the enemy's 
camp into the utmost hurry and uproar ; and their 
dragoons were quickly mounted, dashing out to res- 
cue their comrades ; but in vain, for my brother 
brought them all off in safety to our camp. 

Our strength at this time v/as far inferior to that ot 
the enemy. But it soon became alarmingly reduced. 
For learning that, besides this heavy force under 
Watson, there was another from Camden under colo- 
nel Doyle, and also of mounted tories from Pedee, 
all in full march against us, our men took a panic and 
began to desert, and those who staid behind looked 
very serious, and talked as if certain ruin both to 
themselves and families would follow from their con- 
tinuing to fight in so hopeless a cause. 

In answer to these desponding gentlemen, I re 
plied, that I was ashamed and grieved too, to hear 
!h€m talk at that rate. 
R 



184 THE LIFE OF 

" Our prospects ^"^ said I, " gentlemen, are to be sure 
dark, very dark j yet thank God, they are not despe- 
rate. We have often before now seen as heavy 
clouds hanging over us ; and yet with heaven's bless- 
ing on our arms those clouds have been dispersed, 
and golden days restored. And who knows but we 
may shortly see it so again ? I am sure we have good 
reason to expect it ; and also to hope that God vv ill 
assist us, who are only fighting to make ourselves 
free and happy, according to his own most blessed 
will. And will it not be a most sweet cordial to your 
spirits as long as you live, to think that, in such try- 
ing times as these, you stood up for your country, 
and fought and won for yourselves and children all 
the blessings of liberty. 

" And, besides," said I, " do not the tories, who 
are more than half the authors of your misfortunes, 
possess large estates ? And have you not arms in your 
hands, wherewith to paj'- yourselves out of theii ill- 
saved treasures ?"" 

This speech seemed to raise their spirits a good deal. 

I then went to see the general, who with his hands 
behind him, was walking backwards and forwards in 
front of his tent, meditating no doubt on the deser- 
tion of his men ; whose numbers, from more than two 
hundred, were now reduced to less than seventy. 

" General Marion," said I, " I am sorry to tell you 
that our men are now so few ; especially since, ac- 
cording to report, we shall soon want so many?'' 

" Why," replied he, " that is the very thing I have 
been grieving at ; but it will signify nothing for us to 
stand here sighing and croaking ; so pray go and or- 
der a muster of the men, that I may say a few words 
to them before they all run off and leave me." 

Soon as the troops were all paraded around the 
door of his tent, he stepped upon the trunk of a fall- 
en pine, and in his plain but impressive manner, ad 
dressed us nearly as follows . — 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 185 

** Gttitlemen and felloxv-soldiers. 

" It is not for words to express what I feel when I 
look around upon your diminished numbers. Yester- 
day I commanded 200 men ; men whom I gloried in, 
and who I fondly thought, would have followed me 
through my dangers for their country. And, now, 
when their country most needs their services, they 
are nearly all gone ! And even those of you who re- 
main, are, if report be true, quite out of heart; and 
talk, that you and your families must be ruined if you 
resist any longer ! But, my friends, if we shall be 
ruined for bravely resisting our tyrants, what will be 
done to us if we tamely lie down and submit to them ? 
In that event, what can we expect but to see our own 
eternal disgrace, and the wide-spread ruin of our 
country ; when our bravest and best citizens shall be 
hung up like dogs, and their property confiscated to 
enrich those villains who deserted their country, and 
joined her enemies ; when Cornwallis, Rawdon, and 
farleton, after so long plundering and murdering 
your friends, shall, in reward of such services, be set 
)ver you as your governors and lord lieutenants, with 
princely salaries out of your labours; when foreign 
bishops and their hireling clergy shall be poured 
upon you like hosts of consecrated locusts, consuming 
the tithes and fat of the land ; when British princes, 
and nobles, and judges, shall swarm over your devot- 
e.d country, thick as eagles over a new-fallen carcass ; 
when an insatiate king, looking on your ccamtry as 
his plantation, and on your children as his slaves, 
shall take away your substance, every year, for his 
pomps and pleasures ; and to keep you under for ever, 
shall fill your land with armies ; and when those ar- 
mies, viewing you with malignant eyes, shall constant- 
ly be insulting you as conquered rebels ; and under 
pretence of discovering among you the seeds of ano- 
ther rebellion, shall be perpetually harassisg and 
giving up to military execution the best and worthiest 
of your fellow-citizens I 



186 THE LIFE OF 

" Now my brave brethren in arms, is there a man 
among you, who can bear the thought of living to sec 
his dear country and friends in so degraded and 
wretched a state as this ? If there be, then let that 
man leave me and retire to his home. I ask not his 
aid. But, thanks to God, I have now no fears about 
you: judging by your looks, I feel that there is no \ 
such man among us. For my own part I look upon 
such a state of things as a thousand times worse than 
death. And God is my judge this day, that if I 
could die a thousand deaths, most gladly would I die 
them all, rather than live to see my dear country in 
such a state of degradation and wretchedness." 

In reply to this speech of our honoured general, we 
told him, in brief, it was on account of his noble sen- 
timents we had always so highly esteemed him ; that 
it was on account of these we had already suffered so 
iimch, and were ready to suffer more ; and that rather 
than see our country in that wretched state which he 
had so feelingly described, and which, with him, we 
firmly believed would be the case if the British were 
to get the upper hand, we had made up our minds to 
fight by his side to a glorious death. 

I never saw such a change on the face of a human 
being, as then took place on that of Marion. His 
eyes sparkled with pleasure, while in transport he 
exclaimed — ^^' Well, now colonel Doyle, look sharp, 
for you shall presently feel the edge of our swords.*' 

Soon as night came on we mounted, and took the 
swamps of Lynche's creek, though swimming deep, 
and after a long time spent in plunging and splashing 
through the dark floods, we got over, at least about 
two-thirds of us. The rest, driven down by the force 
of the current, were cast ashore on hills and high 
banks, which by the freshet were converted into 
islands; and there they continued whooping and hal- 
looing to each other all night. When the welcome 
light returned, they plunged again into the furious 
stream, and though swept down a good way by thd 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. tsT 

force of the current, arrived safely on our side, where 
wc had prepared some largf^ fires to dry their clothes 
and muskets, and plenty of roasted roots and Indian 
cakes for breakfast. 

As God was pleased to have it, none of us lost our 
lives, though many did their great coats, blankets, and 
saddles, and some few their pieces. As to myself, I 
must needs say, I was never so near the other world 
in my life. For, as we were borne along down the 
stream in the dark, my horse and I were carried un- 
der the limb of a tree hung thick with wild vines, 
which soon caught me by the head like Absalom, and 
there held me fast, dangling in the furious flood, while 
njy horse was swept from under me. I hallooed for 
some time like a lusty fellow, without getting any an- 
swer, which made me begin to think my chance was 
bad. And, God forgive me for it ! I could not help 
thinking it a sad thing, that after so many fierce frays 
and hard knocks with the British and toiies, I should 
come at last to be choked like a blind puppy, in this 
dirty swamp : but God be praised for his good angel, 
who had brought me through six dangers, and now 
took me out of the seventh. For, as I was near giv- 
ing out, a bold }'0ung fellow of the company ov^rr 
heard me bawling, and having the advantage of a stout 
horse, dashed in and took me safely off. 

I was afraid at first that my horse was drowned — 
but sagaciously following the rest of the horses, he 
made his way good, but lost my saddle, great coat, 
and clothes. But what grieved me most of all was 
the loss of my holsters, with a pair of elegant silver 
mounted pistols, a present from Macdonald, and 
which he had talcen from a British officer whom he 
killed near Georgetown. 

Soon as our firearms were dried, and ourselves and 
horses well refreshed, we mounted and rode hard all 
that day, to surprise colonel Doyle. About midnight 
wc had approached the house of a good whig, who 
told us that Doyle had been there, but that warned by 
R2 



188 THE LIKE OF 

an express from Camden,he had started in great haste, 
and was certainly by that time far beyond our reach. 
We were much puzzled in our minds for the mean- 
ing of this precipitate retreat of colonel Doyle ; how- 
ever, after one day of welcome rest and high cheer, 
we faced about, fully determined, notwithstanding our 
inferiority of force, once more to try our fortune with 
colonel Watson. But in reaching the ground where 
we had left him encamped, we got advice that he too, 
with all his troops, were gone off, at a tangent, as 
hard as he could driv^e. While we were wondering 
what could have possessed the British to scamper 
thus in every direction, captain Conyers, of Lee's le- 
gion, hove in sight, with the welcome news that the 
brave colonel Lee was at hand, coming up full tilt to 
join us; and also that general Green, with a choice 
detachment from the great Washington, was bending 
towards Camden, to recover the laurels which the in- 
cautious Gates had lost. These glorious tidings at 
once explained the cause of the enemy's flight, and 
inspired us with a joy which the reader can better 
coiKeive than I express. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

MariorCs method of managing the militiu— sends the 
author on another expedition against the tories — 
anecdote of Mr. F. Kinloch — curious dream of black 
Jonathan^ and fortunate escape of Mr. Kinloch — the 
author"* s party surprised bipthe British, hut come off 
with flying colours. '* 

THE world, perhaps, never contained a partisan 
olEcer who better understood the management of 
militia than did general Marion. He was never foi 
dragooning a m-an into the service. " God loves a 
cheerful giver, and so do /," said he, "(7 -ivilling sol- 
dier. To have him such you must convince him that 
it is his interest, for interest is every man's pole star 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 

Every man wishes to be happy, and thereto wishes 
a happy wife and children, a happy country and 
frienda. Convince him that all these invaluable 
blessings cannot be had without sweet I'lbertij^ and 
you shall have a soldier as brave as Washington.— 
For no man, worthy of the name, could ever yet bear 
to see his wife, children and friends, enslaved and 
miserable*." Such was Marion's method of making 
soldiers. And what with this, and the cruelty of the 
British and tories, he had with him, perhaps, some of 
as brave and desperate men as ever fought. 

" Never ride a free horse to death," he used to say 
to his officers ; " push, while he is fresh, but soon as 
he begins to lag, then lie by and feed high is your play." 

For this purpose he always kept a snug hiding- 
place in reserve for us ; which was Snow's Island, a 
most romantic spot, and admirably fitted to our use. 
Nature had guarded it, nearly all around^ with deep 
waters and inaccessible marshes ; and the neighbour- 
ing gentlemen were all rich, and hearty whigs, who 
acted by us the double part of generous stewards and 
faithful spies, so that, while there, we lived at once 
in safety and plenty. 

We bad reposed ourselves but two days in th«. 
pleasant wilds of Snow's Island, before Marion, learn- 
ing that a part of the enemy were in the neighbour- 
hood, desired me to take captains Clarke and Irvin, 
with fifty men, and try if I could not bring him a 
good account of them. 

We encamped the first night on the plantation of 
Mr. John Withers, where hearing that Mr. F. Kin- 
loch, our member of Congress, was at a neighbouring 
house, I sent him the following note. 

Honourable Sir, 

If in these dangerous times you can think yourseU 
safe among a handful of militia-men, I shall be very 
glad to see you at our camp. As to supper, thank 
God we can give you a trencher of fat pork and po- 



190 TPIE LIFE OF 

tatoes, but for- bed and furniture, we can prom'sc you 
nothing better than earth qjid sky. I shall place ii 
sentinel on the road to conduct you to, 
Honourable Sir, your friend, 

Peter Horry, 

Mr. Kinloch, who was one of the clev^erest men m 
tJie world, instantly set out to come to us, but unluck- 
ily missed our sentinel, and went several miles below 
us to Mr. Alexander Rose's plantation, managed by 
a mulatto driver named Jonathan. The day being 
nearly spent, Jonathan very politely urged Mr. Kin 
loch to alight and spend the night there, promising him 
a xvcij'm Slipper and 7i gcod bed. Mr. Kinloch accept- 
ed Jonathan's offer very cheerfully, and after taking 
part of a nice fowl and a cup of coffee, went to bed. 
He had not slept long before Jonathan waked him up, 
and, with great terror in his looks, told him, " he was 
mighty 'fraid there was harm a brewing." 

" Aye, Jonathan! why so, my good lad ?" 

" Oh, sir," replied Jonathan, '' such a dream as I 
have had, sir! a marvellous bad dream about the 
enemy's coming upon you to-night, sir !" 

" Poh !" quoth Mr. Kinloch, turning himself over 
for another nap : I have dreamed nothing about it^ 
Jonatlian. And I'm sure such a dream ought to have 
come to me, and not to you ; so we'll even go to sleep 
again, and trust to heaven." 

Accordingly he fell asleep a second time ; but had 
not long enjoyed that sweetest of opiates, before 
Jonathan comes again, and awakes him with the old 
.story of his dream. 

" Well, Jonathan," said fAr. Kinloch, veiy good* 
naturedly, "" if you are determined to turn me out of 
doors, I suppose I must go. But where can I get to, 
this time of night ?" 

" Why," sir, quoth Jonathan, " I'll get your horse 
and go with you to the main road, sir, and from there, 



OEN. FRANCIS MARION 191 

you can^t miss your way back to the house you came 
from this afternoon." 

On Jonathan's return from the short distance he 
had conducted Mr. Kinloch, he found the yard filled 
with the British light horse ! 

These dreams are droll things; but they some- 
limes come so well attested, that there is no doubting 
them. He who made our frame, can certainly speak 
to us as well asleep as awake ; and the wise will feel 
the importance of making a friend of Him, who can 
cause an airy dream to defend us as efFeptually as a 
legion of angels. 

The next night, just as we were about to encamp, 
we lighted on a negro fellow, belonging to Mr. Joseph 
Alston, whom I quickly had by the heels, lest he 
should give intelligence to the enemy. But, as the 
devil would have it, just before day, the sergeant of 
the guard, overcome by the negro's importunities, 
loosened him and let him go. And, mark now, young 
officers, what conies from disobeying orders. This 
villain of a blackamoor had not gone above three 
miles before he fell in with the British, to whom, 
Judas-like, he betrayed us off hand! and they as 
quickly took horse, and pushed on to surprise us. 

By sunrise I had all my men mounted; captain 
Clarke leading the advance, myself and captain Irvin 
j bringing up the rest of the corps. 
:[ The British first discovered captain Clarke, which 

I they did in the way of a glimpse, through an opening 
' in the woods ; then sounding their bugles, they rush- 
ed on to the charge. Unfortunately, Clarke had not 
j yet seen the enemy, and mistaking their bugles for 
( the huntsmen's horns, ordered a halt to see the deer 
go by. But instead of a herd of flying deer, behold ' 
a column of British cavalry all at once bursting into 
the road, and shouting and rushing on with drawn 
swords to the charge. In a moment, as :f themselves 
metamorphosed into deer, Clarke and his advance 



192 THE LIFE OF 

wheeled about, and giving their horses ** the tia< 
6er,"* flew back upon our main body, roaring out as 
they came in sight — ^" The British ! the British!" 

Quick as thought my men caught the panic, aud 
facing about, took to their heels, and went off as if the 
d — ^1 had been behind them. I bawled after them as 
loud as I could roar, " Halt I Halt .'" but I might as 
well have bawled to the whirlwinds, for it appeared 
to me the louder I bawled, the swifter the rascals 
flew. Whereupon I clapped spurs to my young 
Janus, and went off after them at full stretch, hoping 
to gain their front and so bring them to. Being 
mounted on a young full-blooded charger, fresh and 
strong from the stable, I bid fair to gain my point toOj 
for I was coming up with them hand over hand. — 
But, in that very juncture of time, as the Lord was 
pleased to order it, my gitth gave way, my saddle 
turned, and my charger fetching aground start, threw 
me, saddle, holsters, and all, full ten feet over his 
head, and then ran off. I ijeceived no harm, God be 
praised for it, but recovering my legs in an instant, 
bawled out again to my meji to halt and form. 

Happily for me, at the Very moment of my dis- 
aster, the enemy, suspecting our flight to be only a 
finesse, had halted, while oirily sixteen dragoons un- 
der colonel Camp, continued the chase. 

Scorning to fly from such a handful, some of my 
more resolute fellows, thirteen in number, faced 
about, and very deliberately taking their aim at th« 
enemy as they came up, gaj/e them a spanker^ which 
killed upwards of half theif number. The rest took 
to flight, leaving their colonel, whose horse was slain, 
to shift for himself, which |ie quickly did by running 
into the woods. | 

j 

* This IS a Carolina phrase for clashing. If a husband should sc 
far forget himself as to beat his Wife ! Avliich, thank God, is ver^ 
rare, his neighbours, with great scorn, say of him as he pokes Ins 
hated face along, Aye, tliat's th? jockey that gives nis wife the? 
timber. 



GEK. FRANCIS MARION. 193 

^rhe British were so near us when they received 
the fire of my men, that one of them, a stovit fellow, 
as he wheeled to go off, came so close to me, where 
I stood on the ground, that hiPwas lifting his broad 
sword for a back-handed stroke, Vvdiich would proba- 
bly have saved me the trouble of writing this history, 
had I not. with one of my pistols, v/hich I took from 
the saddle when my horse left me, anticipated his 
kindness, by driving a bullet through his shoulder, 
which brought him to the ground. Then mounting 
his horse, while my men caught the horses of those 
that were killed, we galloped off, very well satisfied 
that the affair had turned out no worse. 

On returning to Marion, I could not help com- 
phiining to him of my men, whose behaviour, I said, 
in this last affair, had been so very dastardly, that 1 
v/as much afraid, I should never again put confidence 
in them, nor gain mvy credit by commanding them. 
'' Pshaw !" said he, with a smile, " it is because you 
do not understand the management of them : you 
command militia ; it will not do to expect too much 
from that sort of soldiers. If^ on turning out against 
the enemy, you find your men in high spirits, with 
Durning eyes all kindling around you, that's your time • 
then in close columns, with sounding bugles and 
shining swords, dash on, and I'll warrant your men 
will follow you, eager as the lion's whelps bouncujig 
ivith their s\re to the chase of the buffaloes. But on 
the other hSnd, if by any unlooked-for providence 
they get dismayed, and begin to run, you are not to 
fly in a passi(&n with them, and show yourself as mad 
Rs they are cowardly. No ! you must learn to run 
too: and as fast as they; n^y faster, that you may 
get into the front, and encourage them to rally. 

" And as to the credit that you are to get by com- 
manding them, I find, my dear fellow, that you are 
entirely i-n die wrong there also. Our country can- 
not expect us to cope with British regulars. War is 
an art, the dtn'pcst of all artSj because the greatest of 



194, THE LIFE OF 

all earthly conb'equences depend on itj And noneca^ 
expect to be masters of that terrible art, but such as 
serve a long apprenticeship to it. But as we hav^ 
served no apprenticHliip, we can know biit littlej 
about it in comparison with our enemies, who in dis-^ 
cipline and experience have greatly the advantage of 
us. But, thank God, we have our advantages too. — 
We are far better riders, better woodsmen, and bet- 
ter marksmen than they. These arq noble adran- 
tages. Let us but improve them by Redoubled acti- 
vity and vigilance, and kindness to our men, and 
especially by often conversing with them on the 
grounds of the war, the merits of our cause, and the 
vast consequences depending. Let us, I say, in this 
way, make them soldiers in principle, and fond of 
their officers, and ail will be well yet, By cutting off 
the enemy's foraging parties, drawing them into am- 
buscades and failing upon them by surprise, we shall, 
I hope, so harass and consume them, as to make them 
glad to get out of our country. And then, the per- 
formance of such a noble act will bring us credit, and 
credit enough too, in the eyes of good men ; while as 
to ourselves, the remembrance of having done so 
much to vindicate the rights of man, and make pos- 
terity the happier for us, will afford us a pleasure that 
may outlive this momentary being." 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 195 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Colonel Harry Lee joins general Marion — Georgetown 
surprised- — colonel CamphellWnade prisoner — major 
Irvin killed — adjutant Crookshanks miraculously 
saved by his sweetheart — -force of female affection 
— American generosity contrasted with British bar^- 
barism — interesting anecdotes of Mr. Cusac^ y^'^^g: 
Gales and Dinkins^ colonel Lee^s little bugler^ John 
PFiley^ Peter 7'arnal^ young M''Coy^ major Broxvti^ 
colonel Haynes^ and lord Rawdon, 

THE next day, colonel Lee with his legion came 
up, to the inexpressible joy of us all ; partly on aC" 
count of his cavalry, which to be sure, was the hand- 
somest we had ever seen ; but much more on account 
of himself, of whom we had heard that, in deep art 
and undaunted courage, he was a second Marion.-— 
This, our high opinion of him, was greatly exalted by 
his own gallant conduct, for he had been with us bat 
a few days before he proposed the surprise of George- 
town, which was very cordially concurred with by 
general Marion. 

The infantry and cavalry- employed on the occa- 
sion, were to approach the town at -iifferent points, 
after m.idnight, and at a signal f-oiv. the latter, to 
commence the attack. Unfurtunr-^telv, the cavalry 
did not get up in time, owing to s-omt fault of their 
guide. The infantry arrived at the appointed mo- 
ment, and dreading the dangers of dola)', charged at 
once into the town, which they found utterly unpre- 
pared for an attack. Colonel Campbell, the com* 
mander, was made prisoner in his bed; adjutant 
Crookshanks, major Irvin, and other ofRcers, were 
sound asleep at a tavern belonging to a genteel fami- 
ly, with whom they had spent the evening with great 
hilarity. A detachment of our men approached the 
house and surrounded it. Soon as the alarm was 
given, the oilicers leaped out of bed, and not waitin<? 
W dre??, flew into the piazza, flourishing their pistol- 



196 THE LIFE OF 

ana ahouting to the charge. Major Irvin, with more, 
f-'ourage than discretion, fired a pistol, and would have 
tried another, but ji^t as he had cocked it, he was 
stopped short by the ^roke of a bayonet, which end- 
ed him and his courage together. Adjutant Crook- 
shanks, acting in the same heroic style, would have 
shared the same fate, had it lot been for an angel of 
a young woman, daughl-^r '^f the gentleman of the 
house. This charming gir was engaged to be mar- 
ried to Crookshanks. Waktrf by the firing and hor^ 
rid din of battle in the piazza, •'he was at first almost 
^reft of her senses by the fright But the moment she 
lieard her lover's voice, all her terrors vanished, and 
instead of hiding herself under the bedclothes, she 
rushed into the piazza am dst the mortal fray, with 
no armour but her love, no covering but her flowing 
tresses. Happily for her lover, she got to him just 
in time to throw her arms around his neck and scream 
out, " Oh save ! save major Crookshanks !" Thus, 
with her own sweet body shielding him against the 
uplifted swords of her enraged countrymen! 

Crookshanks yielded himself our prisoner; but we 
paroled him. on the spot, and left him to those deli- 
cious sentiinents which he must have felt in the arms 
of an elegant young woman, who had saved his life 
oy an effort of love sufficient to endear her to him lo 
all eternity. 

It was told us afterwards of this charming girl, 
that as soon as we we^ gone, and, of course, the 
danger past and the tumult of her bosom subsided, 
she fell into a swoon, from which it was with diffi- 
culty that she was recovered. Her extreme fright, on 
being waked by the firing and horrid uproar of battle 
in the house, and her strong sympathy in her lover's 
danger, together with the alarm occasioned by find- 
ing herself in his arms, were too much for her deli- 
cate frame. 

There is a beauty in generous actions which charms 
he souls of men •' and a sweetness, which like that 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 197 

immortal love whence it flows, can never die. The 
t^es of all, even the poorest soldiers in our camp, 
sparkled with pleasure whenever they talked, as they 
often did, of this charming woman, and of our gene- 
rosity to major Crookshanks ; and to this day, even 
after a lapse of thirty years, I never think of it but 
writh pleasure ; a pleasure as exquisite, perhaps, as 
what I felt at the first moment of that transaction. 

And it is a matter of great satisfaction to me, to 
think how nobly different in this respect was our con- 
duct from that of the British. I speak not of the 
British natio7i^ which I hold most magnanimoits ; but 
of their officers in Carolina, such as Cornwallis, Raw- 
don, Tarleton, M^eymies, Brown, and Balfour, who 
instead of treating their prisoners as we did Crook- 
shanks, have often been known to butcher them in 
cold blood; Xhou^.xhQiv fathers^ mothers and children^ 
on bended knees, with wringing hands and streaming 
eves, hiive been imploring pity for them. 

There was Mr. Adam Cusac, of Williamsburg dis 

tricty this brave man, 

" This buckskin Hampden ; that, with dauntless breast, 
" The base invaders ot his rights withstood," 

was surprised in his own house by major Weymies, 
who tore him away from his shrieking wife and chil- 
dren, marched him up to Cheraw court-hoiise, and 
after exposing him to the insults of a sham trial, had 
him condemned and hung ! The only charge evei 
exhibited against him wa^that hp had shot across 
Black river at one of Weylpes' tory captains. 

There was that gallant lad of liberty. Kit Gales, 
with his brave companion, Sam Dinkins : these two 
heroic youths were dogged to the house of a whig 
friend, near the hills of Santee, where they were sur- 
prised in their beds by a party of tories, who hurried 
them away to lord Rawdon, then on his march from 
Charleston to Camden. Rawdon quickly had them, 
according to his favourite phrase, "knocked into 
Irons," and marched on under guaid with his troops. 



198 THE LIFE OF 

On halting for breakfast, young Gales was tucked up 
to a tree, and choked with as little ceremony as if he 
had been a mad dog. He and young Dinkins had, 
it seems, the day before, with their horses and rifles, 
ventured alone, so near the British army, as to fire 
several shots at them ! For such heroic daring in de- 
fence of their country, in place of receiving applause 
from lord Rawdon, Gales, as we have seen, received 
his bloody death. His gallant young friend, Dinkins, 
was very near drawing his rations of a like doleful 
dish, for lord Rawdon had him mounted upon the 
same cart with the halter round his neck, ready for 
a launch into eternity , when the tories suggested to 
his lordship their serious apprehensions that a terrible 
vengeance might follow : this saved his life. 

Every body has heard the mournful story of colo- 
nel Lee's little bugler, and how he was murdered by 
colonel Tarleton. This '' poor beardless boy," as 
Lee, in his pathetic account of that horrid transaction, 
calls him, had been mounted on a very fleet horse ; 
but to gratify a countryman who had brought some 
news of the British, and was afraid of falling into 
their hands, Lee ordered the boy to exchange his 
horse, a moment, for that of the countryman, which 
happened to be a miserable brute. This Lee did in 
his simplicity, not even dreaming that any thing in 
the shape of civilized man could think of harm.ing 
such a child. Scarcely had Lee left him, when he 
was overtaken by Tarletifc's troopers, who dashed up 
to him with looks of deam, brandishing their swords 
over his head. In vain his tender cheeks, reminding 
them of their own youthful brothers, sought to touch 
their pity ; in vain, with feeble voice, and as long aa 
he was able, he continued to cry for quarter. They 
struck their cruel swords into his face and arms, 
which they gashed with so many mortal wound* 
that he died the next day, 

"' Is your name IViley ?'''' said one of Tarleton's cap- 
tains, whose name was Tuc b . to Mr. John Wiley, 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 19§ 

'.heriff of Camden, who had lately whipped and crop- 
ped a cioted horse thief, named Smart. " Is your 
name Wiley V said captain Tuck to the young man, 
at whose door he rode up and asked the question. — 
" Yes, sir," replied Mr. Wiley. " Well, then, sir, 
you are a d — n — d rascal^"* rejoined captain Tuck, 
giving him at the same time a cruel blow over the 
forehead with his broadsword. Young Wiley, though 
doomed to die, being not yet slain, raised his naked 
arm to screen the blow. This, though no more than 
a common instinct of poor human nature in the mo- 
ment of terror, served but to redouble the fury of 
captain Tuck, who continued his blows at the bleed- 
ing, staggering youth, until death kindly placed him 
beyond the reach of human malice. 

All this was done within a few hundred paces of 
lord Cornwallis, who never punished captain Tuck. 

But poor Peter Yarnall's case seems still more de- 
plorable. This hard fated man, a simple, inoffensive 
quaker, lived near Camden. Having urgent business 
with a man, who, as he understood, was with general 
Sumpter, on. the opposite side of the Catawba, he 
went over to him. The man happened, at that mo- 
ment, to be keeping guard over some torij prisoners. 
A paper which Yarnall wanted to see was, it seems, 
in a jacket pocket in the man's tent hard by. " Hold 
my piece a moment, sir," said he to Yarnall, "and 
I'll bring the paper,* Yarnall, though averse, as a 
quaker, from all killing of enemies with a gun, yet 
saw no objection to holding one a moment. The 
next day, a day for ever black in the American calen- 
dar, witnessed the surprisal of general Sumpter and 
the release of the tory prisoners, one of whom imme- 
diately went his way and told colonel Tarleton that 
he had seen Peter Yarnall, the day before, keeping 
guard over the ktng^s yrzV/zr/i-, prisoners to the rebels. 
The poor man's house was quickly surrounded by the 
British cavalry. Vain were all his own explanations, 
his wife's entreaties, or his children's cries. He was 



200 THE LIFE OF 

dragged to Camden, and thrust into prison. Every 
morning, his wife and daughter, a girl of about fif- 
teen, rode into town in an old chair, to see him, and 
to bring him milk and fruits, which must have been 
highly acceptable to one crammed, in the dogdays, 
into a small prison, with one hundred and sixty-three 
half-stifled VvTetches. On the fourth day, an amia- 
ble young lady. Miss Charlton, living near the prison^ 
had heard of poor Yarnall's fate that morning. Soon 
therefore as she saw Mrs. Yarnall and her daughter 
coming along as usual, with their little present to 
their husband and father, she bursted into tears. 
Mrs. Yarnall alighted at the door of the jail', and beg- 
ged to sec her husband. " Follow me," said one of 
the guard, " and I'll show you your husband." Aa 
she turned the comer, " There he is, madam," said 
the soldier, pointing to her husband as he hung dead 
on a beam from the windov/. The daughter sunk to 
the ground ; but her mother, as if petrified at the 
sight, stood silent and motionless, gazing on her 
dead husband with that wild keen eye of unutterable 
wo, which pierces all hearts. Presently, as if braced 
up with despair, she seemed quite recovered, and 
•\ilmly begged one of the soldiers to assist her to 
take down tbe corpc^e and lay it in the bottom of the 
chair. Then taking her seat, with her daughter sob- 
bing by her side, and her husband dead at her feet, 
she drove home apparently quite unmoved ; and dur* 
ing the whole time she was preparing his coffin an<l 
nerforming the funeral duties, she preserved the 
same firm unaltered looks. But soon as the grave 
had shut its mouth on her husband, and divorcer! 
him for ever from her sight, the remembrance of the 
past rushed upon her thoughts with a weight too 
heavy for her feeble nature to bear. Then clasping 
her hands in ap-onv, she shrieked out, "Poor me! 
poor me ! I have no husband, no friend now '" and 
immediately ran raving mad, and died in that state. 
There v/as young M'Coys the eye of humamtr 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 20t 

must weep often, as she turns the page that tells how 
this amiable youth was murdered. His father was 
one of the most active of our militia captains. As 
none better understood American rights, so none 
more deeply resented British aggressions, than did 
captain JVr.Coy. His just views and strong feel- 
ings, were carefully instilled into his boy, who, 
though but fifteen, shouldered his musket, and, in 
bpite of his mother's tears, foUov/ed his father to war. 
Many a gallant Englishman received his death at their 
hands. For, being well acquainted with the river, 
and bravely supported by their friends, they often 
fired upon the enemy's boats, killing their crews and 
intercepting their provisions. This so enraged co- 
lonel Brown, the British comrAander at Augusta, that 
he made several attempts to destroy captain M^Coy. 
Once, in particular, he despatched a captain and fifty 
men to surprise him. But M'Coy kept so good a 
look out, that he surprised and killed the captain and 
twenty of his men. The rest, by giving good leg 
bail^ made their escape. Young M*Coy fought by 
the side of his father in this and many other rencon- 
tres, in one of which he had the gi*eat good fortune 
to save his father's life. 

At the head of some gallant friends, they fell in 
with a strong party of tories, near Brier creek, com- 
manded by a British ofBcer. As usual, an obstinate 
and bloody contest ensued. The combatants quickly 
coming to close quarters, M'Coy grappled with the 
officer ; but not possessing strength equal to his 
courage, he was overpowered and throvv'n on the 
ground. The youth, who had just fired his piece 
into the bosom of a tory, seeing his father's danger, 
flew to his aid, and with the butt of his gun knocked 
out the brains of the ofHcer, at the very instant he 
was lifting his dirk for the destruction of his father. 

In a skirmish, in which his party were victorious, 
■captain M'Coy was mortally wounded, and died ex- 
horting Ilia son still to fight iindauntedly for the liber* 



202 THE LIFE OF 

ties of his countT} . After the death of his fatkcr, 
voung M'Coy joined the brave captain Clarke. In 
an expedition against colonel Brown, Clarke was de- 
feated, and young JVr Coy made prisoner. Hearing 
of his mitifortune, his mother hastened to Augusta, 
but arrived only in time to meet him with colonel 
Brown and a guard, carrying him out to the gallows. 
With gushing tears, she fell upon his neck, and bit- 
terly mourned her lot, as wretched above all women, 
in thus losing her husband and only son. 

The behaviour of young M'Coy, it is said, was he- 
roic beyond his years. Instead of melting with his 
disconsolate mother, he exhorted her like one who 
had acted on principle, and now felt its divine conso- 
lations stronger than death. 

He entreated his mother not to weep for him, nor 
for his father. " In the course of nature, mother," 
said he, " we were to part. Our parting indeed, ia 
early ; but it is glorious. My father was like a Uon 
in battle for his country. Asa young lion, I fought 
by his side. And often, when the battle was over, 
did he embrace and call me his boy I his own brave 
boy ! and said I was worthy of you both. He has 
just gone ])efore, and I now follow him, leaving you 
the joy to remember, that your son and husband have 
attained the highest honour on earth ; the honour of 
fighting and dying for the rights of man." 

Anxious to save the life of so dear a son, poor Mrs. 
M^Coy fell on her knees to colonel Brown, and with 
all the widowed mother agonizing in her looks, plead 
for his life. But in vain. With the dark features 
of a soul horribly triumphant over the cries of mercy, 
he repulsed her suit, and ordered the executioner to 
do his office I He hung up the young man before the 
eyes of his mother ! and then, with savage joy, suf- 
fered his Indians, in her presence, to strike their 
tomahawks into his forehead ; that forehead which 
she had so often pressed to her bosom, and kissed 
with all the transports of a doating mother^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SOS 

Who, without tears, can think of the hard fate of 
poor colonel Haynes and his family. 

Soon as the will of heaven had thrown Charleston 
into the hands of the British, lord Cornwallis, famed 
for pompous proclamations, began to publish. The 
tenour of his gasconade was, that Carolina was now, 
to all intents and purposes, subjugated ; that the ene- 
mies of his lord the king were all at his mercy; and 
that though, by the war ruhrick for conquered rebels 
he had a right to send fire and sword before him, with 
blood and tears following in his course ; though he 
had a right to feed the birds of heaven with rebel 
carcasses, and to fatten his soldiers with their confis* 
cated goods, yet he meant not to use that dreadful 
right. No indeed ! Far from him was all such odious 
thoughts. On the contrary he wished to be merciful j 
and as proof of his sincerity, all that he asked of the 
poor deluded people of his majesty's colony of South 
Carolina was, that they '^»hould no longer take part nor 
lot in the contest, but contiyiue peaceably at their homes. 
And that, in reward thereof, they should be most 
sacredly protected m property and person. 

This proclamation was accompanied with an m* 
strument of neutralit)', as an ^' outrvard and visible 
sign of an inward and spiritual grace," in my lord 
Cornwallis towards the Carolinians ; and which in- 
strument they were invited to sign, that they might 
have a covenant right to the aforesaid promised bless- 
ings oi protection^ both in property and person. 

The heart of colonel Haynes was with his country- 
men, and fervently did he pray that his hands could 
be with them too. But, these, alas ! were bound up 
by his wife and children, whom, it is said, he loved 
passing well. Helpless and trembling as they were, 
now could they be deserted by him in this fearful 
season, and given up to a brutal soldiery ? And why 
should he insure the destruction of a large estate, 
when all opposition seemed hopeless ? In short, 
with thousands of others, he went and signed an in 



204 THE LIFE OF 

strument, which promised security to his family ana 
fortune. But alas ! from that fatal moment he neve? 
more enjoyed peace. To hate the ministerial mea 
sures as he did, and yet thus tamely to have submit* 
ted to them ; to love his country as heartily as he did* 
and to know that she was now fighting, with her all 
at stake, and yet thus to have deserted her ! 

These keen self-condemning reflections harrowed 
every root of quiet from his soul. If he went to his 
couch, it was only to groan, sleepless and tossing, all 
the restless night. If he got up, it was but to sit, or 
walk to and fro in his family, with dark and woful 
looks, like one whom trouble had overcome. 

In the midst of these anguishing reflections, which 
appeared to be wearing him fast to the grave, a res- 
pite was afl'orded, and by a hand from which it was 
least expected. Lord Cornwallis, having by his first 
proclamation, obtained to the instrument of neutrality 
aforesaid, the signatures of many thousands of the 
citizens of South Carolina, then came out with a se^ 
cond proclamation, in which he nominates the paper 
above not an instrument of neutrality, but a bond of 
allegiance to the king, and calls upon all who had 
signed it, to take up arms against the rebels ! — threat- 
t^.ning to treat as deserters those who refused ! 

This fraud of my lord Cornwallis, excited in all 
honest men the deepest indignation. It completely 
revived colonel Haynes. To his unspeakable joy, he 
now saw. opened a door of honourable return to duty 
and happiness. And since, contrary to the most so- 
lemn compact, he was compelh-d to Jjg'ht^ he very na- 
turally determined to fight the British, rather than his 
own countrymen. He fled to his countrymen, who 
received him Avith joy, and ga\'c him a command of 
horse. He was surprised and carried to Charleston, 
where lord Rawdon, then commandant, ordered him, 
in his favourite phrase, to be knocked into irons. A 
mock trial, dignified with the name of court-martial^ 
was held over him, and colonel Haynes was sentenced 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 205 

t(y be bung! Every body in Charleston, Britons , 
wed as Americans, all heard this sentence with horror, 
except colonel Haynes himself. On his cheek alone, 
all agree, it produced no change. It appeared that 
the deed which he had done, signing that accursed 
paper, had run him desperate. Though the largei 
part, even of his enemies, believing that it was done 
merely from sympathy with his wife and children, felt 
the generous disposition to forgive him, yet he could 
never forgive himself. It had inflicted on his mind 
ft wound too ghastly to be healed. 

To their own, and to the great honour of human 
nature, numbers of the British and loyalists, with 
governor Bull at their head, preferred a petition to 
iord Rawdon in his behalf. But the petition was not 
noticed. Tha ladies then came forward in his favour 
with a petition, couched in the most delicate and 
moving terma, and signed by all the principal females 
of Charleston, tories as well as whigs. But all to no 
Durpose. It was then suggested by the friends of 
humanity, that if the colonel's little children, for they 
had no mother, she, poor woman ! crushed under the 
double weight of grief and the small-pox, was just 
Bunk at rest in the grave. It was suggested, I say, 
that if the colonel's little children, dressed in mourn- 
ing, were to fall at the knees of lord Rawdon, he 
would pity their motherless condition, and give to 
their prayers their only surviving parent. They 
were accordingly dressed in black, and introduced 
into his presence : they fell down at his knees, and, 
with clasped hands and tear-streaming eyes, lisped 
their father's name, and begged his life : but in vain. 

So many efforts to save him, both by friends and 
generous foes, could not be made, unknown to colo- 
nel Haynes. But he appeared perfectly indifferent 
about the result; and when told that they had all 
failed, he replied with the utmost unconcern — ''*' Well, 
thank God, lord Rawdon cannot hurt me. He can- 



W6 I'HK LIFE OF 

not be more anxious to take my life tnan I am to lay 
it down " 

With his son, a youth of thirteen, who was per 
mitted to stay with him in the prison, colonel Haynes 
used often to converse, in order to fortify him agjainst 
the sad trial that was at hand. And indeed it was 
necessary, for seldom has a heavier load been laid on 
a tender-hearted youth. War, like a thick cloud, had 
darkened up the gay morning of his days ; the grave 
had just closed her mouth on a mother who doated 
on him; and he now beheld his only parent, a be- 
loved father, in the power of his enemies, loaded with 
irons, and condenmed to die. With cheeks wet with 
tears, he sat continually by his father's side, and look- 
ed at him with eyes so piercing and sad, as often 
wrung tears of blood from his heart 

« Why," said he, " my son, will you thus break 
your father's heart with unavailing sorrow ] Have I 
not often told you, that we came into this world but 
to prepare for a better ? For that better life, my dear 
boy, your father is prepared. Instead then of weep- 
ing, rejoice with me, my son, that my troubles are so 
near an end. To-morrow, I set out for immortality. 
You will accompany me to the place of my execution ; 
and when I am dead, take and bury me by the side 
of vour mother." 

1?he youth here fell on his father^s neck, crying, 
' Oh my father! my father! I will die with you! . 
will die with you !" 

Colonel Haynes would have returned the strong 
embrace of his son ; but, alas ! his hands were loaded 
with irons. " Live," said he, " my son, live to honour 
God by a good life; live to serve your country; and 
live to take care of your brother and little sisters !" 

The next morning colonel Haynes was conducted 
to the place of execution. His son accompanied him. 
Soon as tney came in sight of the gallows, the father 
strengthened himself and said — "Abzu, my son, shovi 
yourself a mem. Thai tree is the Imndary of my life 



^^ 



i*age 206. 




Oh my father ! my father I I will die with you. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SOT 

and of aU my lifers sorrows. Beyond that, the wtcied 
cease from troubling and the xveary are at rest. DoJi^t 
lay too much to heart our separation from you; it will 
be but short. ' Twas but lately your dear mother died 
To-day I die. And you, my soUy though but youngs 
must shortly folloxv us.^^ 

" Yes, my father," replied the broken-hearted youth, 
•* I shall shortly follow you : for indeed I feel that I 
cannot live long." And so it happened unto him. 
For on seeing his father in the hands of the execi*. 
tioner, and then struggling in the halter, he stood like 
one transfixed and motionless with horror. Till then 
he had wept incessantly ; but soon as he saw that 
sight, the fountain of his tears was staunched, and 
he never wept more. It was thought that grief, like 
a fever, burnt inwardly, and scorched his brain, for 
he became indifferent to every thing around him, and 
often wandered as one disordered in his mind. At 
times, he took lessons from a fencing master, and 
talked of going to England to fight the murderer of 
his father^ But he who made him had pity on himi 
and sent death to his relief. He died insane^ and in 
his last moments often called on the name of his father, 
in terms that brought tears from the hardest hearts. 

I hope my reader will not suppose, from these odi* 
ous truths which I have been telling him about the 
British and tories, that I look on them as worse than 
other men ; or that I would have him bear an eternal 
hatred against them. No, God forbid. On tfie con- 
trary, I have no doubt on my mind, that the British 
and tories are men of the same passions with our- 
selves. And I also as firmly believe, that, if placed 
in their circumstances, we should have acted just as 
they did. Upon honour this is my conviction now; 
but it was not always so : for I confess there was a 
time, when I had my prejudices against them, and 
prejudices too as strong as those of any other man, 
let him be who he would. But thank God those pre- 
judices, so dishonourabltt to the head, and to uneas/ 



208 THE LIFE OF 

to the heart, are done away from me now. And from 
this most happy deliverance, I am, through the divine 
goodness, principally indebted to my honoured friend, 
general Marion, of whose noble sentiments, on these 
subjects, I beg leave to give the reader some little 
specimen in the next chapter. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

Short and sweet — or, a curious dialogue between gene^ 
ral Marion and captain Snif^s^ on retaliation. 

•* No radiant pearls that crested fortune wears. 
No gem that sparkling hangs in beauty's ears ; 
Not the bright stars that night's blue arch adorn. 
Nor opening suns that gild the vernal mem. 
Shine with such lustre as the tear that flows 
Down virtue's manly cheeks, for others' woes." 

WHAT gigantic form is that which stalks thus 
awfully before the eyes of my memory; his face, 
rough and dark as the cloud of winter, and his eye- 
balls burning like coals of fire ? 'Tis the impetuous 
captain Snipes. He is just returned from the quarter 
house near Charleston, where he and captain M'Cau- 
ley, with Macdonald and forty men, have recently 
surprised and cut to pieces a large party of the ene- 
my. He looks as if the fury of the battle had not yet 
subsided in his wrathful countenance. His steps are 
towards Marion, and as he presents a packet, he ex- 
claims in an angry tone, " There, sir, is a Charleston 
paper. You'll see there how those villains are going 
on yet. Not satisfied with all the murders they had 
committed before, they have gone now and murder- 
ed colonel Haynes." Here he gave the heads of that 
disgraceful act, seasoning his speech every now and 
then, as he went along, with sundry very bitter im- 
precations on lord Rawdoii. 

" Ah shame ! shame upon him !" replied the gene- 
ral with a sigh, and shaking his head ; " shame upon 
lord Rawdon '" 



GEN, FRANCIS MARION. a09 

" Shame !" answered captain Snipes, his eyes flash- 
ing fire ; " shame ! I hope something heavier than 
shame will light upon him for it soon. The Ameri- 
can officers have sworn never again to give quartei 
to the British or tories." 

3Iarion. God forbid that my countrymen should 
have taken such an oath as that! 

Snipes, Why, general Marion, would you have the 
enemy go on at this rate, and v/e take no revenge ? 

M. Revenge? O yes, to be sure, sir; revenge is 
sweet, and by all means let us have it ; but let it be 
of the right kind. 

S. Of the right kind, sir ! what do you call revenge 
of the ri-ght kind ? 

AL Why, sir, I am for taking that kind of revenge 
which will make our enemies ashamed of their con- 
duct, and abandon it for ever. 

S. Ashamed of their conduct ! Monsters ! they ar« 
not capable of shame. 

M. Pshaw ! don't talk so, captain Snipes ! our ene- 
mies, sir, are men, and just such men as we are ; and 
as :apable of generous actions, if we will but show 
them the way. 

S. Well then, general Marion, how do you account 
for that great difference between us and them in point 
of spirits ? We have never yet killed any of their 
men, except in fair fight, that I have heard of; but 
they have often murdered ours. Yes, the cowardly 
rascals ! they have often done it, and that in cold 
blood too. 

yr. Granted. And I am very glad that when we 
have had them in our power, we have always treated 
them so much more generously. But, I suppose the 
reason of such barbarity on their part, is, they have 
had, or v/hich is the same thing, have thought they 
had gieater provocations. 

S. They be d — n — d, they and their provocation! 
too ! Are not -ive the persons who have been invaded| 
T2 



210 THE LIFE OF 

and plundered and murdered by them^ and not they by 
us T How then can they have greater provocations ? 

M. Why, sir, sprung originally from them, and al- 
ways looked on by them as their children, our turning 
now and fighting against them, must appear, in their 
sight, a very great provocation , as great perhaps as 
that of children fighting against their parents. And 
again, our shaking oflP what they glory in, as the wisest^ 
and freest^ and happiest government on earth, must 
make us seem to them as no better than the vilest 
traitors and rebels ; which cannot otherwise than prove 
another very great provocation. And again, after 
having been first settled in this country by them^ as 
they will have it, and afterwards, so long and liberally 
assisted with their best blood and treasure, in hope 
tliat some day or other we should be of service to 
them ; that now, at the v^ery time when, by our im- 
mense population, we were just arrived to the so long 
desired point, to swell their wealth and spread their 
commerce and arms over the v/orld, we should sepa- 
rate from them, blast all their fond hopes, and throw 
them back to the former level ; this, I say, you will 
certainly allow, must be a very severe provocation. 
Now, sir, putting all these provocations together, and 
also taking poor human nature into the account, is it 
to be w ondered at, that the British should be so much 
more angry, and consequently more violent than we ? 

S. Why, certainly, general Marion, you have al- 
ways a very fine knack at setting off your arguments- 
But still, sir, I can't see things in that light. For a 
man, sir, to go and tramp up a pack of claims against 
me, and all of them because I can't credit him in the 
abominable extent he wishes, to fall upon me and kill 
and murder me, as the British and tories have done 
with us, and we not stop them by revenge ! why, my 
God ! sir, it will never do. For, at this rate, whom 
shall we have living in all this country, in a little time, 
hut ti'ie British, and their friends the tories and ne- 
groes ? 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2H 

M. My brave captain let me tell you again, I an^ 
as anxious to stop them as you can possibly wish me 
to be ; but I am for doing it in what I think the right 
way. I mean the way of policy and humanity. 

S. Policy, sir ! can their be policy in letting our 
best men be murdered by these savages ! I'm sure 
general Washington did not think so. For, though 
I am no man of learning myself, yet I have been told 
by those that are, that, on its being threatened by 
general Gage to hang an American soldier, he instant 
ly wrote him word, that if he dared to do such a thing, 
the life of a British soldier should pay for it. And, 
It is well known, that he kept the British army and 
nation too, in a fright for three months together, with 
the halter constantly around the neck of captain As- 
gil, expecting every day to be hung for the murder 
of captain Huddy. 

M. True ; general Washington did act so. And it 
was policy to act against a foreign enemy. But our 
standing with the tories is quite a different case, and 
requires a very different course. The tories are our 
countrymen, a part of our own population and 
strength, so that every man of them that is killed, is 
a man for ever lost to ourselves. Now, since the 
British have put them up to murder us, if we go, out 
of revenge, to murder them again, why, in the course 
of a little time our population will be so cut up, as to 
allow the British ministry, with ease, to take our 
country, and make slaves of us all; which is just 
what lord North desires. 

S. Yes, I dare say it is. But I hope he'll be dis- 
appointed yet. 

M. No doubt of it, sir ; if we shall be wise and 
magnanimous enough to follow the true policy, which 
s no other than iiumanitv to these deluded people, 
the tories . and to this we have every inducement 
that generous spirits could desire. The tories and 
ourselves are brothers ; many of us went to the same 
school together \ and a thousand times have v^X^ and 



SIS THE LIFE OF 

drank in each other's houses. And as to the quarrel 
Ui which we are now unfortunately engaged, though 
not the most, still we are much in fault. We made no 
allowances for those follies of theirs which led to it. 
They thought — Firsts That we were too nearly allied 
to England to go to war with her : this was a weak- 
ness, but there was something amiable in it. — Se- 
cofidli/, They thought the British were much too war- 
like and powerful to be resisted by us : this was an 
error, but it was learned in the nursery. — Thirdly 
They wished to keep in with the British, merely thaf 
they might save their property : this was altogethei 
(rom Jear^ and therefore claimed some commiseration^ 
But no ! we could not grant one grain of indulgence 
to any of their mistakes. We would have it, they 
all proceeded from the vilest of motives. We called 
them traitors, and cowards, and scoundrels ; and load- 
ed them with a thousand indignities besides. Well, 
the consequences were, as might have been expected 
from human weakness and passion. Wrought to des- 
peration, and caring not what they did, they have 
gone and joined our enemies, and many valuable lives 
have been lost on both sides. Surely 'tis high time 
now that we should set about doing something tc 
end it. 

S. Well! let them set about ending it themselves. 
They were the first to begin it. 

31. But would you have the tories to lead to glory I 

S. Glory ! I should think it meanness to be the 
first to make overtures to such rascals ! 

M. Well, but, captain Snipes, when brethren, as we 
are, fall out, is it policy to go on to exasperate and cut 

h other's throats, until our enemy comes and takes 
away a fine country, of which, by such madness, we 
had rendered ourselves unworthy? Would it not be 
much better policy to trace back all our wrong steps 
of passion and revenge, and making hearty mends 
again, and joining our forces against the common ene* 
my, drive him out of our country; and then bv estab^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 213 

Tishing a free government, and encouraging agricul- 
ture and commerce, and learning, and religion, make 
ourselves a great and happy people again ; would not 
this, I say, be the true policy ? 

S. Why yes, I confess, general Marion, it would 
be a noble thing, and very desirable, if it could be 
done. But I cannot bear to think of being the first to 
make terms with the tories, after they have been 
burning, and plundering, and murdering our best 
friends. It is too hard, sir, for mortal flesh and blood. 

M. It is a great trial, I confess; but " the heavier 
the cross the brighter the crown," you know, sir. And 
as to the difficulty of the undertaking, that's the very 
thing that should make us jump at it ; the glory of 
showing ourselves wiser and better men than our 
enemy. . And besides, let us recollect that the glory 
of this exploit all now lies with us : for if we do not 
pluck UT> courage and do it, it will never be done. — 
The toi ies are, generally, an ignorant people ; and 
therefore not much of wise or good is to be expected 
from that quarter. They have also, in many instances, 
acted a very savage part by us : their consciousness 
of this can have no tendency to make them court re- 
conciliation with us. Since, then, but little is to be 
expected from them^ it seems incumbent on us to do 
t^ne more. We have better information, and we have 
also a much better cause. These are great advantages 
which God has given us ; and now it becomes us to 
improve them, to his glory and to our own honour, by 
showing a conciliatory and magnanimous spirit to- 
wards our enemies. And though it should cost us 
labour to win such a victory, yet^ I am confident, that 
when won, it will appear to us the most glorious that 
we ever achieved. To conquer an enemy by the 
sword, is, no doubt, honourable ; but still it is nothing 
in comparison of conquering him by generosity. As 
arguing both superior virtue and courage, it com- 
mands higher admiration from the v/^orld, and is re- 
flected on by ourselves with far more self-esteem and 



$14 THE LIFE OF 

applause. And then, sir, only consider how such 
conduct will gild the future scenes of life. This un- 
fortunate quarrel betwixt us and our countrymen, the 
tories, is not to last for ever. It was only the act of 
a wicked ministry, attempting, by an unconstitutional 
tax to enslave an a%ctionate part of the nation. God 
can never suffer such an attempt to prosper. It must 
be but a momentary quarrel ; and we ought to ac- 
custom ourselves to think of it as such, and to look 
beyond it to the happy days that are to succeed. And 
since the storm of war is soon to subside into th« 
calm of peace, let us do nothing now, that may thro\* 
a cloud over the coming sunshine. Let us not even 
talk of exterminating' war ! that unnatural crime whiclf 
would harrow up our souls with the pangs of remorse^ 
and haunt our repose with the dread of retaliation— 
which would draw down upon our cause the curse of 
heaven, and make our ver)^ name the odium of all 
generations. But, far differently, let us act the gener- 
ous part of those who, though now at variance, are 
yet brothers, and soon to be good friends again. And 
then, when peace returns, we shall be in proper frame 
to enjoy it. No poor woman that we meet will seem 
to upbraid us for the slaughter of her husband ; no 
naked child, for robbing him of his father ; no field 
will cry against us for a brother's blood. On the 
contrary, whenever the battles which we are now fight- 
ing, shall recur to our thoughts, with the frightened 
enemy grounding their arms and crying for quarteri 
we shall remember how we heard their cries and stop- 
ped the uplifted sword. Joy will spring in our bo- 
soms, and all around will smile with approbation. — ■ 
The faces of the aged will shine upon us, because we 
spared their sons ; bright-eyed females will bless us 
for their surviving husbands: and even the lips of 
the children will lisp our praises. Thus with a heaven 
of delighted feeling in our hearts, and the smiles both 
of God and man on our heads, we shall pass the even- 
ing of our days in glorious peace. And when death 



GEN. FRANCIS INIARION. 81J 

shall call us to that better world, we shall obey with- 
out reluctance. Conscious of neither drGad nor hate 
towards any of the blessed people that dwell there, 
we shall go in strong hope of witnessing the bright 
realities of that state, where all is immortality and 
love. Perhaps we shall there meet many of those 
whom it has been our sad destiny to fight with here ; 
not in their present imperfect state, but in their state 
of exaltation, clad in robes brighter than the stars, 
and their faces outshining the sun in his noonday 
splendours. Perhaps at sight of us, these glorious 
spirits may rush with new-flushed beauties, to embrace 
us, and in the presence of crowding angels, recount 
our kindness to them in the days of their mortality ; 
while all the dazzling throngs, listening delighted, 
shall fiX on us their eyes of love, inspiring those joys, 
which none but strong immortals could sustain. Are 
not these, O my friends, hopes worth contending for I 
Is revenge to be cherished that would rob us of such 
honours ? Can generosity be dear that would ensure 
to us so great rewards ? Then let us not think bene- 
volence was enjoined in vain, which is to conduct us 
to such immortal felicities." 

As Marion spoke these words, his countenance, 
which in general was nielancholy, caught an anima- 
tion beyond the reader's fancy to conceive. The 
charms of goodness, and the bright rewards which 
await it, were painted in such living colours on hi» 
face, that not even the stranger could have beheld it 
unmoved. On me, who almost adored Marion for 
his godlike virtues, its effects were past describing. 
My bosom heaved with emotions unutterable, while 
the tear of delicious admiration swelled in my eyes. 
As to captain Snipes, he appeared equally affected. 
His eyes were riveted on the general, and towards 
the close of the speech his breath seemed suspended; 
his colour went and came; and his face reddened 
and swelled J as under the powerful eloquence of the 
pulpit. 



816 THE LIFE OF 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

Marion and Lee attack and take fort Watson and fort 
Lee — interesting anecdotes. 

FROM Georgetown, Marion proceeded with colo- 
nel Lee to attack the British post on Scott's lake, 
generally called fort Watson. The situation of this 
fort was romantic and beautiful in the extreme. — 
Overlooking the glassy level of the lake, it stood on 
a mighty barrow or tomb like a mount, formed of the 
bones of Indian nations, there heaped up from time 
immemorial, and covered with earth and herbage. — 
Finding that the fort mounted no artillery, Marion 
resolved to make his approaches in a way that 
should give his riflemen a fair chance against their 
musqueteers. For this purpose, large quantities of 
pine logs were cut, and as soon as dark came on, were 
carried in perfect silence, within point blank shot of 
the fort, and run up in the shape of large pens oi 
chimney-stacks, considerably higher than the enemy's 
parapets. Great, no doubt, was the consternation of 
the garrison next morning, to see themselves thus 
suddenly overlooked by this strange kind of steeple, 
pouring down upon them from its blazing top inces- 
sant showers of rifle bullets. Nor were they idle the 
while, but returned the blaze with equal fury, pre- 
senting to us, who lay at a distance, a very interesting 
scene — as of two volcanoes that had suddenly broke 
out into fiery strife, singeing the neighbouring pines. 

Though their enemy, yet I could not but pity the 
British, when I saw the great disadvantage under 
which they fought. For our riflemen, lying above 
them and firing through loopholes, were seldom 
hurt; while the British, obliged, ^very time they 
fired, to show their heads, were frequently killed. — • 
Increasing still the awkwardness of their .situation, 
their tt-'f//, which was on the outside of the fort, v/as 
so entirely in the reach of our rifles, that they could 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. SIX 

not get a pail of water for coffee or grog, without the 
utmost hazard. After a gallant resistance, they sur- 
rendered themselves prisoners of war ; one hundred 
and twenty in number. 

This fort had been very judiciously fixed in a coun- 
try exceedingly fertile, and on a lake aboanding with 
fine fish, and from its contiguity to the river Santee, 
forming an admirable deposite for their upland posts. 
From their military storehouse, which was on the 
outside of the fort, the British attempted, at the com- 
mencement of our attack, to get out their goods, and 
to roll them up into the fort. But in this exposed 
state, their men were picked off so fast by our sharp- 
shooters, that they were soon obliged to quit such 
hot work. 

The sight of their casks and bales, rolled out and 
shining so richly on the side of the hill, set the fingers 
of our ragged militia-men on such an itch, that mere 
was no resisting it. And presently a squad of three 
of them were seen pushing out, without leave or li- 
cense, to attack a large hogshead, that lay very invit- 
ingly on the outside of the rest. The enemy seeing 
the approach of our buccaneers, reserved their fire 
until they had got pretty near up to the intended 
prize; then all at once cut loose upon them with a 
thundering clap, which killed one, crippled a second, 
and so frightened the third, that he forgot the cask, 
and turning tail, thought of nothing but to save his 
bacon! which he did by such extraordinary running 
and jumping, as threw us all into a most immoderate 
laueh. 
j Presently up comes my black waiter, Billy, with a 
I broad grin on his face, and says, " V/hy, master, them 
" militia men there, sir, are tarnal fools : they do not 
know nothing at all about stealing. But if you will 
please, sir, to let me try my hand, I can fetch off that 
hogshead there, mighty easy, sir." 

" No, no, Billy !" said I, shaking my head, " that 
U 



Sid THE LIFE OF 

will never do, my lad. I value you much too highly, 
Billy, to let you be knocked on the head, so foolishly 
as all that comes to." 

" Lord bless you, sir," replied he, smiling, " there 
is no more danger in it, than in eating when a body is 
hungry. And if you will only please let me try my 
hand, sir, if you see any danger, why then, master, 
you may call me back, you know, sir." 

Upon this he started. Fortunately for him ©ur 
riflemen, seeing what he was after, made a noble di- 
version in his favour, by throwing a galling fire into 
the fort. On getting within thirty yards of the hogs- 
head, he fell flat on his face, and dragged himself along 
on his belly until he reached it. Then seizing the 
hogshead with a hand on each chine he worked it back- 
wards and backwards, like an alligator pulling a dog 
into the river, until he had fairly rolled his prize to the 
brink of the hill, where, giving it a sudden jerk by 
way of a start, and at the same time jumping up, he 
ran with all his might down the precipice, the hogs- 
head hard after him, and was soon out of all danger. 
Numbers of shot were fired at him, but not one 
touched him, which gave great joy to our encamp- 
ment, who were all anxious spectators of the trans- 
action, and seemed to take a deep interest in Billy's 
success. And no wonder ; for he was a most noble- 
hearted fellow, and exceedingly useful in camp. Offi- 
cers or soldiers, cadets or colonels, no matter who 
they were, that asked Billy a favour, they were sure 
to have it done for them ; and with such a cheerful 
air, as did them more good than the service itself. 
So that I much question, whether there was a man in 
all our camp, whose good luck would have given 
more general satisfaction than his. 

On opening Bill's hogshead, which indeed was no 
hogshead, but rather a puncheon, as big as two hogs- 
heads, there was a prodigious stare among our men 
at the sight of so much wealth. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 919 

100 strong white shirts for soldiers, 
50 fine do. do. for ofRcers, 
50 camp blankets, 

100 black stocks, 

100 knapsacks, and 
6 dragoon's cloaks, 
were the valuable contents of JBIilly's cask. The na» 
tive genius of the poor fellow instantly broke out in 
a stream of generous actions, which never stopped, 
until the hogshead was completely emptied. First of 
all, he began with me, to whom he presented half a 
dozen of the fine shirts and black stocks, with a dra- 
goon's cloak. Then to the general he made a present| 
also to the officers of his family. To his fellow-ser- 
vants, who messed with him, he gave two shirts 
a-piece. But what pleased me most in Billy's dona- 
tions, was his generosity to the two men who had 
miscarried in their attempt on the same cask. Seeing 
that they were much mortified at their oxvn failure^ 
and a li ttle perhaps at his success^ he desired them to 
come and help themselves to what they liked. Hear- 
ing him then express a wish that he knew what to do 
with the balance, I told him that many of our dragoons 
were poor men, and much in want of shirts. '* ^y^s 
sure enough^'* said he, and immediately handed them 
out a shirt a-piece, until all were gone. 

For this generosity of Billy's, general Marion dub* 
bed him " captain Billy," a name which he went by 
ever afterwards. Nothing was ever more seasonable 
than this supply, purchased by Billy's valour ; for be- 
fore that, we were all as ragged as young rooks. 
There was not an officer in camp, except colonel Lee 
and his staff, who was so rich as to own two shirts. 
I am very sure that Marion's aids had hut one 
a-piece. And yet so independent of wealth is cheer- 
fulness, that I have often seen our officers in their 
naked buffs, near a branch, singing and dancing around 
their shirts, which they had just washed, and hung on 
the bushes to dry. 



220 THK LIFE OF 

From the reduction of fort Watson, we set out im- 
mediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack 
on fort Motte. For the sake of fine air, and water, 
and handsome accommodations, the British had erect- 
ed this fort in the yard of Mrs. Motte's elegant new 
house, which was nearly enclosed in their works. But 
alas ! so little do poor mortals know what they are 
about ! the fine house, which they had rudely taken 
from poor Mrs. Motte, proved to the British, what 
his gay shirt did to Hercules. It wrought their down- 
fall. For, after a fierce contest, in which many valu- 
able lives were lost on both sides, through the sharp 
shooting of the yaugers, and the still closer cutting of 
our riflemen, it struck Marion that he could quickly 
drive the enemy out of the fort, by setting the house 
on fire. But poor Mrs. Motte ! a lone widow, whose 
plantation had been so Icng ravaged by the war, her- 
self turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed, 
and her stock, grain, &c. nearly all ruined ! must she 
now lose her elegant buildings too ? Such scruples 
were honourable to the general ; but they showed his 
total unacquaintedness with the excellent widow. For 
at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed, 
" O ! burn it ! burn it, general Marion ! God forbid I 
should bestow a single thought on my little concerns, 
when the independence of my country is at stake.— 
No sir, if it were a palace it should go." She ihen 
stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow 
with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy 
purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly 
presented her, and said, *^ Here, general, here is what 
will serve your purpose to a hair." The arrows, 
pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combus- 
tibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they 
stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The 
British, two hundred in nurnbey, besides a good many 
lories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of sub* 
mission. 

The fjxcellent Mr?. Motte was present when hei 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. ^u 

Sne new house, supposed to be worth six thousand 
dollars, took fire ; and without a sigh, beheld the red 
spiry billows prevailing over all its grandeur. 

The day after the destruction of her house, she 
invited general Marion with ail the officers, British 
as well as American, to dine with her. Having now 
no better place of accommodation, she entertained 
us under a large arbour built in front of her log cabin, 
where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same 
lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the 
Parisian: thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities 
of the heroine and the christian. For my life I could 
not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irre- 
parable injury these officers had done her ! and yet 
to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting 
the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them with 
the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of 
the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced 
the happiest effect on us all. Catching her amiable 
spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past 
animosities ; and Britons and Americans mingled to- 
gether, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I 
do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in 
which I can think thav God looked down with higher 
complacency than on ti:is. And to the day of my 
death, I shall believe, that God enabled us to beat the 
British in arms, because we had so far beaten them 
in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provoca- 
tions, could display such moderation as we did, must 
certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we 
were equal to the glorious business of self-goverii- 
ment; or, in odier words, of living under a republici 
which must certainly be his delight, because both im- 
plying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than 
any other government among nnen. 

The name of the British commandant, our prisoner, 

was Ferguson ; and a very pleasant gentleman he was 

too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which 

I soon did. After talking over our various adventures 

U 2 



2^2 THE LIFE 0¥ 

in the war, he asked me if I did not command the 
cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and 
Marion. I told him I did. " Well," replied he, " you 
made a very lucky escape that day : for do you know 
that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colonej 
Small's joining us in the march ?" 

" Then truly," said I, " if that were the case, I 
made a lucky escape, sure enough." 

" And where were you," he asked again, " when 
general Marion so completely surprised our guard at 
Nelson's old fields : were you there ?" 

I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh 
Horry, was. 

** Well," continued he, laughing heartily, " that was 
my lucky day. I had a command there that morning 
of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left 
the guard more than five minutes before the Ameri- 
cans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the 
firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the 
high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the 
stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves." 
I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed 
Marion had that morning. 

He replied, he really did not know, but supposed 
he must have had three or four hundred. 

" Well, sir," said I, " he had exactly thirty." 
The reader may perhaps conceive Ferguson's as- 
tonishment : I cannot describe it. 

Soon as the dishes were removed, we v/ere present- 
ed with a spectacje to which our eyes had long been 
strangers, a brave parade of excellent wine ; several 
hampers of which had been received at the fort the 
very day before we commenced the attack. To poor 
soldiers like us, who, for years, had hardly quenched 
our thirst on any thing better .than water or apple 
brandy grog, this v/as a sight immensely refreshing. 
Whether it was owing to the virtues of this noble cor- 
dial, with the recollection of our late glorious victo- 
ries J or whether it was the happy result of our gene- 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2US 

rosity to the enemy, and of their correspondent 
politeness to us, I do not know ; but certain it is, we 
were all very gay. But in the midst of our enjoy 
ments, which none seemed to relish with a higher 
glee than general Marion, a British soldier came up 
and whispered to one of their officers, who instantly 
coming round to the general, told him in a low voice, 
that the Americans were hanging' the tories who had 
been taken i?i the fort ! 

In a moment he sprang up, in a violent passion, aad 
snatching his sword, ran down towards our encamp- 
ment. We all followed him, though without knowing 
the cause. On turning the corner of the garden which 
had concealed their cruel deeds, we discovered a sight 
most shocking to humanity, a poor man hanging in the 
air to the beam of a gate, and struggling hard in the 
agonies of death. " Cut him dow^n ! cut him down !" 
cried the general, as soon as he had got near enough 
to be heard, v/hich was instantlv done. Then running 
-Up, with cheeks as red as fire coals, and half choked 
with rage, he bawled out, " In the name of God ! what 
are you about, what are you about here !" 

" OvAy hanging a few tories, sir," replied captain 
Harrison of Lee's legion. 

" Who gave you a right, sir, to touch the tories ?" 

7^o this, young M*Corde, of the same corps, replied, 

that it was only three or four rascals of them that 

they meant to hang; and that they had not supposed 

the general xvould mind that. 

" What ! not mind murdering the prisoners. Why, 
my God ! what do you take me to be ? do you take 
me for a devil ?" 

Then, after placing a guard over the tories, and 
vowing to make an example of the first man who 
should (iare to offer them violence, he returned with 
the company to Mrs. Motte's table. 

Of the three unfortunate tories that were hung dcady 
one was natr ed Hugh Mizcally. The name of the per- 
son %o timely cut down was Levi Smith, a most luri- 



224 THE LIFE OF 

ous tory. This title produced him such respect among 
those degenerate Britons, that they appoit^ed him 
gatekeeper of Charleston, a circumstance that ope- 
rated much against the poor whigs in the country. 
For Smith soon broke up a pious kind of fraud, which 
the wives and daughters of the tories had for some 
time carried on at a bold rate. 

To the immortal honour of the ladies of South Ca 
rolina, they were much more whiggishly given thai 
the men ; insomuch that though married to tories, 
they would be whigs still. 

These fair ladies, in consequence of their relation 
to the tories, could, at pleasure, pass into Charleston ; 
which they never left without bringing off quantities 
of broadcloth cut and jumped into petticoats, and art- 
fully hid under their gowns. The broad cloth, thus 
brought off, was for regimentals for our officers.— 
Things went on swimmingly in this way for a long 
time, till Smith, getting one day more groggy and 
impudent than usual, swore that some young women 
who were going out at the gate, looked much bigger 
over the hips than they had need, and insisted on a 
search. The truth is, these fair patriots, preparing 
for a great wedding in the country, had thus spoiled 
their shape, and brought themselves to all this dis- 
grace by their over greediness for finery. But Mr. 
tory Smith alTected to be so enraged by this trick, 
which the girls had attempted to play on him, that he 
would never afterwards suffer a woman to pass with* 
out first pulling up her clothes. 

He carried his zeal to such length, as one day very 

grossly to insult a genteel old lady, a Mrs. MXorde. 

Her son, who was a dragoon in Lee's legion, swore 

vengeance against Smith, and v/ould, as we have seen, 

have taken his life, had not Gen. Marion interposed. 

In the Charleston papers of that day, 1781, Smith 
gives the history of his escape from Marion, wherein 
he relates an anecdote, which, if it be true, and I lee 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 225 

no reason to doubt it, shows clear enough that his 
toryism cost him dear. 

In his confinement at Motte's house, he was exces- 
sively uneasy. Well knowing that the whigs owed 
him no good will, and fearing that the next time they 
got a halter round his neck, he might find no Marion 
to take his part, he determined if possible to run off. 
The tories were all handcuffed two and two, and con- 
fined together undt^r a centinel, in what was called a 
bull-pen^ made of pine trees, cut down so judgmati- 
cally as to form, by their fall, a pen or enclosure. It 
was Smith's fortune to have for his yokefellow a poor 
sickly creature of a tory, who, though hardly able to 
go high-low, was prevailed on to desert with him. 
They had not travelled far into the woods, before his 
sick companion, quite overcome with fatigue, declared 
he could go no farther, and presently fell down in a 
swoon. Confined by the handcuffs. Smith was obliged 
to lie by him in the woods, two days and nights, 
without meat or drink ! and his comrade frequently 
in convulsions ! On the third dav he died. Unable 
to bear it any longer. Smith drew his knife and se- 
parated himself from the dead man, by cutting off 
his arm at the elbow, which he bore with him to 
Charleston. 

The British heartily congratulated his return, and 
restored him to his ancient honour of sitting, Morde- 
cai-like, at the king's gate, where, it is said, he be- 
haved very decen'tlj^ ever afterwards. 

Smith's friends say of him, that in his own country 
(South Carolina) he hardly possessed money enough 
to buy a pig, but when he got to England, after the 
v/ar, lie made out as if the rebels had robbed him of 
as many flocks and herds as the wild Arabs did Job. 
The British government, remarkable for generosity 
to their friends in distress, gav6 him money enough 
to return to South Carolina with a pretty assortment 
of merchandise. And he is now, I am told, as weaU, 



320 THE LIFE OF 

X- 
thy as a Jew, and, which is still more to h\s credit 
as courteous as a christian. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The author congratulates his dear country on her late 
glorious victories — recapitulates British cruelties^ 
drawing after them^ judicially^ a succession of ter* 
rtble overthrows. 

HAPPY Carolina ! I exclaimed, as our late victo- ' 
ries passed over my delighted thoughts ; happy Caro- 
lina ! dear native country, hail ! long and dismal has 
been the night of thy affliction : but now rise and 
sing, for thy " light is breaking forth, and the dawn 
of thy redemption is brightening around." 

For opposing the curses of slavery, thy noblest citi- 
zens have been branded as rebels^ and treated with a 
barbarity unknown amongst civilized nations. They 
have been taken from their beds and weeping fami- 
lies, and transported, to pine and die in a land oi 
strangers. 

They have been crowded into midsummer jails 
and dungeons^^ there, unpitied, to perish amidst suf- 
focation and stench ; while their wives and children, 
in mournful groups around the walls, were asking 
with tears for their husbands and fathers ! 

They have been wantonly murdered with swords 
and bayonets,! or hung up like dogs to ignominious 
gibbets. 

* All Europe was filled with horror at the history' of the one 
hundred and twenty unfortunate Englishmen that were suffo- 
cated in the black hole at Calcutta. Little was it thouglit that 
an English nobleman (lord Rawdon) would so soon have repeated 
that crime, by ci-owding one hundred and sixty-fom' unfortunat;j 
Americans into a small prison in Camden, in the dogdays. 

t A Brother of that excellent man, major Linning, of Charles 
ton, was taken from his plantation on Ashley liver, by one ^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 227 

- They have been stirred up and exasperated against 
6ach other, to the most unnatural and bloody strifes, 
* Fathera to kill their sons, and brothers to put bro* 
thers to death /" 

Such were the deeds of Cornwallis and his officers 
in Carolina! And while the churches in England were, 
every where, resounding with prayers to Almighty 
God, " to spare the effusion of human blood," those 
vionsters were shedding it with the most savage wan- 
tonness ! While all the good people in Britain were 
praying, day and night, for a speedy restoration of 
the former happy friendship between England and 
America, those wretches were taking the surest steps 
r to drive all friendship from the American bosom, and 
to kindle the flames of everlasting hatred ! 

But, blessed be God, the tears of the widows and 
orphans have prevailed against them, and the righte^ 
ous Judge of all the earth is rising up to make inqui- 
sition for the innocent blood which they have shed. 
And never was his hand more visibly displayed in 
the casting down of the wicked, tlian in humbling 
Cornwallis and his bloody crew. 

At this period, 1780, the western extremities were 
the only parts of the state that remained free. To 
, Bwallow these up, Cornwallis sent Col. Ferguson, a fa- 
vourite officer, with fourteen hundred men. Hearing 
of the approach of the enemy, and of their horrible 
cruelties, the hardy mountaineers rose up as one man, 
from Dan to Beersheba. They took their faithful rifles. 
They mounted their horses, and with each his bag of 
oats, and a scrap of victuals, they set forth to find the 
enemy. They had no plan, no general leader. The 

the enemy*s galleys, and thiiist down into the hold. At night the 
officers began to drink and sing, and kept it up till twelve o'clock, 
when, by way of frolic, they had him brought, though sick, into 
their cabin, held a court martial over him, sentenced him to 
deatli. very deliberately executed the sentence by stabbing him 
with bayonets, and then threw his mangled body into the river 
for tlie sharks and crabs to devour i 



528 THE LIFE OF 

youth of each district, gathering around their owft 
brave colonel, rushed to battle. But though seemingly 
blind and headlong as their own mountain streams, 
yet there was a hand unseen that guided their course. 
They all met, as by chance^ near the King's moun- 
tain, where the ill-fated Ferguson encamped. Theit 
numbers counted, made three thousand. That the 
work and victory may be seen to be of God, they 
sent back all but one thousand chosen men, 

A thousand men on mountains bred, 

W'iXh. rifles all so bright. 
Who knew full weD, m time of need. 

To aim their guns aright. 

At parting, the ruddy warriors shook hands with 
their retumitig friends, and sent their love. " Tell 
our fathers," said they, " that we shall think of them, 
in the battle, and draw our sights the truer P 

Then led on by the brave colonels Campbell, Cleve- 
land, Shelby, Sevier, and Williams, they ascended the 
hill and comm.enced the attack. Like Sinai of old, the 
top of the mountain was soon wrapped in smoke and 
flames ; the leaden deaths came whizzing from all 
quarters ; and in forty minutes Ferguson was slain, 
and the whole of his party killed, wounded or taken. 

To avenge this mortifying blow, Cornwallis des' 
patched colonel Tarleton with thirteen hundred and 
fifty picked troops, against Morgan, who had but 
nine hundred men, and these more than half militia. 
At the first onset, the m.ilitia fled, leaving Morgan 
with only four hundred to contend against thirteen 
hundred and fift\% rushing on furiously as to certain 
victory. What spectator of this scene must not have 
given up ail for lost, and with tears resigned this lit- 
tle forlorn, to that unsparing slaughter which colonel 
Tarleton delighted in ? But, contrary t® all human 
expectation, the devoted handful vStood their ground, 
and, in a short time, killed and captured nearly the 
whole of their proud assailants ! 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 229 

Raging like a wounded tiger, Cornwallis destroys 
all his heavy baggage, and pushes hard after Morgan, 
The pursuit is urged with unimaginable fury : and 
Cornwallis gains so fast upon the Americans, encum- 
bered with their prisoners, that on the evening of the 
ninth day he came up to the banks of the Catav/ba, 
just as Morgan's rear had crossed at a deep ford. 
Before the wished-for morning returned, the river 
was so swollen by a heavy rain, that CornwalliB could 
not pass. Adoring the hand of Heaven, the Ameri- 
cans continued their flight. On the morning of the 
third day, Cornwallis renewed the pursuit with redou- 
bled fury, and by the ninth evening, came up to the 
banks of the Yadkin, just as Morgan's last rifle corps 
was about to take the ford. Presently the rain came 
rushing down in torrents, and by the morning light 
the furious river was impassable ! Who so blind as 
not to acknowledge the hand of God in all this ? 

Soon as he could get over, the wrathful Cornwallis 
renewed the pursuit ; but before he could overtake 
them at Guildford court-house^ the Americans, joined 
by their countrymen, gave him battle, and killed one 
third of his army. Cornwallis then, in turn, fled be- 
fore the Americans ; and as he had outmarched them 
before, he outran them now, and escaped safely to 
Wilmington. With largely recruited force he re- 
turned to Virginia, where four hundred deluded men, 
(tories) under colonel Pyles, came forward ..to join 
him. On their way they fell in with Col. Lee and his 
legion. Mistaking them for Tarleton and his cavalry, 
they wave their hats and cry out, " God save the 
king! God save the king!" Lee encourages the mis- 
take, until they are all intermixed with his dragoons, 
who at a signal given, draw their swords and hew the 
wretches to pieces. Only one hundred make their 
escape. These fall in, the next day, with colonel 
Tarleton, who, mistakmg them for what he called 
^ damned rebels," ordered his troops to charge^ which 
they did; and regardless of their repeated cries, that 



tSO THE LIFE OF 

" they were the king's best friends," put most of them 
to death. 

Thus wondeifuUy did God baffle lord Cornwallis, 
and visit a sudden and bloody destruction upon those 
unnatural wretches, who were going forth to plunge 
their swords into the bowels of their own country ! 

After this, being joined by all the British troops in 
that quarter, he rolled on like an angry flood to WiU 
Uamsburgh and York, where God sent his servant 
Washington, who presently captured him and hia 
fleet and army, near ten thousand strong. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



The British evacuate Charleston — great joy of the 
citizens — patriotism of the Charleston ladies. 

AS when a lion that has long kept at bay the fierce 
assaulting shepherds, receives at last his mortal wound, 
suddenly the monster trembles under the deadly 
stroke ; and, sadly howling, looks around with wistfu) 
eye towards his native woods. Such was the shock 
given to the British, when the sword of heaven-aided 
justice struck down the bloody Cornwallis. With 
him fell the hopes of the enemy throughout our state. 

In Charleston, their officers were seen standing to- 
gether in groups, shaking their heads as they talked 
of the dreadful news. While those who had marched 
up so boldly into the country, now panic-struck, were 
every where busied in demolishing their works, blow- 
ing up their magazines, and hurrying back to town in 
the utmost dismay. Hard pressing upon the rear, 
we followed the steps of their flight, joyfully chasing 
them from a country which the) had stained with 
blood, and pursuing them to the very gates of Charles- 
ton. Afi we approached the i^ity, our eyes were pre- 
sented with scenes of desolation sufficient to damp all 
hearts, and to inspire the deepest sense of the horrors 



GEN. FRANCIS MA.RION. 231 

of war. Robbed of all animal and vegetable life, the 
neighbouring plantations seemed but as dreary de- 
serts, compared with what they once were, when, co- 
vered with sportive flocks and herds, and rice and 
corn, they smiled with plenteousness and joy. In the 
fields, the eyps beheld no sign of cheerful crops, nor 
in the woods any shape of living beast or bird, except 
a few mournful buzzards, silently devouring the un- 
buried flesh of some poor wretched mortals, who had 
fallen in the late rencontres between the P'nglish and 
Americans. Indeed, had those days continued, no flesh 
could have been saved ; but blessed be God, who 
shortened them, by chastising the aggressors (the 
British) as we have seen. 

On the memorable 14th of December, 1782^ we en- 
tered and took possession of our capital, after it had 
been two years seven months and two days in the 
hands of the enemy. The style of our entry was 
quite novel and romantic. On condition of not being 
molestefl while embarking, the British had ofl*ered to 
leave the town unhurt. Accordingly, at the firing of 
a signal gun in the morning, as agreed on, they quit- 
ted their advanced woiks, near the town gate, while 
the. Americans, moving on close in the rear, follow- 
ed them all along through the city down to the 
water's edge, where they embarked on board their 
three hundred ships, which, moored out in the bay in 
the shape of an immense half moon, presented a most 
magnificent appearance. 

The morning was as lovely as pure wintry air and 
cloudless sunbeams could render it ; but rendered far 
lovelier still by our procession^ if I may so call it, 
which was well calculated to awaken the most plea- 
surable feelings. In front, were the humble remains 
of that proud army, which, one and thirty months ago, 
captured our city, and thence, in the drunkenness of 
victory, had hurled menaces and cruelties disgraceful 
to the British name: — And close in the rear, was 
our band of patriots, bending forward with martial 



232 THE LIFE OF 

music and flying colours, to play the last joyful act in 
the drama of their country's deliverance ; to proclaim 
liberty to the captive ; to recall the smile on the cheek 
of sorrow ; and to make the heart of the widow leap 
for joy. Numbers, who, for years, had been confined 
to a single room in their own clcgaut houses, could 
now throw open their long-locked doors, and breathe 
and walk at large in these beloved apartments, from 
which they had been so long excluded. Numbers, 
who, for years, had mourned their separation from 
children, wives, and sires, were now seen rushing, 
with trembling joy, to the long-coveted embrace. Oh ' 
it was a day of jubilee indeed ! a day of rejoicing 
never to be forgotten. Smiles and tears were on every 
face. For who could remain unmoved, when they saw 
the little children running with outstretched arms to 
embrace their long absent fathers ; when they saw the 
aged trembling with years and affection, clasping their 
warrior sons, glorious in arms, and those sons, with 
pleasure-sparkling eyes, returning the pious embrace, 
and congratulating the deliverance of their fathers ; 
while all along the streets, as we moved in clouds of 
joy-rolling dust, nothing v/as to be heard but shouts 
of. Liberty and America for ever; and nothing 
was to be seen but crowds of citizens shaking handa 
and thanking God for bringing them to see that hap- 
py day. And to crown all, on both sides of us, as we 
marched in shining rows, stood our beauteous coun- 
try women, m.ingling their congratulations. The day 
was precious to all, but none I believe enjoyed it so 
highly as did the ladies of Charleston. Being, great 
noimbers of them at least, women of fortune and libe- 
ral education, they had early discovered the deformi- 
ty of lord North's enslaving principles, *' iinconditio7ial 
taxation^'* which they abbjprred worse than the yaws ; 
and hating the measure, they could not but dislike the 
men who were come to execute it. In common with 
their sex, they were sufficiently partial to soldiers of 
honour. But alas ! they were not permitted the plen* 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. S3S 

sure to contemplate the British in that prepossessing 
light. On the contrary, compelled to view them as 
mtrejighting machines^ venal wretches, who for pay 
and pkmder, had degraded the man into the brute, 
tne Briton into the buccaneer, how could they 
otherwise than detest them ? 

Nor were the manners of the British officers at all 
calculated to remove those antipathies. Coming to 
America, under the impression that the past genera- 
tion were convicts^ and the present rebels^ they looked 
on and treated their daughters only as pretty Creoles^ 
whom it was doing great honour to smile on ! 

But this prejudice against the British officers, found- 
ed ^r*^ on their sordidness^ then, secondly^ fed by their 
insolence^ was, thirdly and lastly^ matured by their 
cruelty. To see the heads of their first families, 
without even a charge of crime, dragged from their 
beds at midnight, and packed off like slaves to St. 
Augustine ; to see one of their most esteemed coun- 
trymen, the amiable colonel Haynes, hung up like a 
dog before their eyes ; and to hear continually, from 
all parts, of the horrid house-burnings and murders 
committed by Kawdon, Tarleton, Weymies, and their 
tory and negro allies, filled up the measure of female 
detestation of the British officers. They scorned to 
be seen in the same public walks with them ; would 
not touch a glove or snuff-box from their hands ; and 
in short, turned away from them as from the com- 
monest felons or cut-throats. And on the other hand, 
to be treated thus by buckskin girls^ the rebel daught- 
ers of convict parents, v/as more than the British offi- 
cers could put up with. The whig ladies, of course, 
were often insulted, and that very grossly too j and 
not only often threatened, but actually thrown into the 
frovost or bastile. No wonder then that they were 
nighly delighted to see such rude enemies, after re- 
peated overthrows in the country, chased back to 
town, and thence, covered with disgrace, embarking- 
to leave the country for ever. No wonder that, on 
V2 



234 THE LIFE OF 

hearing of our line of march that morning, they had 
decked themselves in their richest habks, and at the 
first sound of our drums, flew to their doors, windows, 
and balconies, to welcome our return. 

Never before had they appeared half so charming. 
Sweet are the flowers of the field at every season ol 
the year, but doubly sweet, when, after long icy win- 
ter, they spread all their blossoms to the springtide 
sun. Even so the daughters of Charleston, though 
always fair, yet never seemed so passing fair as now, 
when after sustaining the long wintry storms of Bri- 
tish oppression, they came forth m all their patriot 
charms to greet the welcome beams of returning li- 
berty. And never shall I forget the accents of those 
lovely lips, which, from behind their waving handker- 
chiefs, that but half concealed their angel blushes, 
exclaiming, " God bless you, gentlemen ! God bless 
you I welcome ! welcome to your homes again !" 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Marion returns to his plantation — -z^ appoitited a meni' 
her of the legislature — some valuable anecdotes of 
him — his marriage — and retirement. 

AFTER the retreat of the British from Carolina, 
Marion sheathed his ?>\Yord for lack of argument^ and 
went up to cultivate his little plantation in St. John's 
parish, where he was born. But the gratitude of his 
countrymen did not long allow him to enjoy the 
sweets of that rural life, of which he was uncom- 
monly fond. At the next election, he was in some 
sort compelled to stand as a candidate for the legisla- 
ture, to which, by an unanimous voice, he was sent, 
to aid with his covmsel,the operations of that govern- 
ment, to whose freedom his sword had so largely con- 
tributed. The friends of humanity were all highly 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 

pleased with his call to the legislature. From his well 
known generosity to his enemies, during the v/ar, they 
fondly hoped he would do every thing in his power 
to extinguish that horrid flame of revenge, which still 
glowed in the bosoms of many against the tories. Nor 
did Marion disappoint their hopes. His face was al- 
ways, and undauntedly, set against every proposition 
that savoured of severity to the tories, whom he used 
to call hi^" poor deluded countrymen." The reader 
may form some idea of general JNIarion from the fol- 
lowing anecdote, which was related to me by the 
honourable Benjamin Huger, Esq. 

During the furious contests in South Carolina, 
between the British and Americans, it was very com- 
mon for men of property to play jack cf both s'ldes^ 
for the sake of saving their negroes and cattle. — 
Among these, a pretty numeraus crew, was a wealthy 
old blade, who had the advantage of one of those very 
accommodating faces, that could shine with equal 
lustre on his victorious visitants, whether Britons or 
buckskins. Marion soon found him out ; and as soon 
gave him a broad hint how heartily he despised such 
trimming-; for at a great public meeting where the 
old gentleman, with a smirking face, came up and 
presented his hand, Marion turned from him without 
deigning to receive it. Everybody was surprised at 
this conduct of the general, and some spoke of it in 
terms of high displeasure. However, it was not long 
before they caught the old weathercock at one of his 
tricks, and, soon as the confscatioii act was passed, 
had him down on the black ll'it^ fondly hoping, no 
doubt, to divide a large spoil. PfXarion, who was then 
a member of the legislature, arose to speak. The aged 
culprit, who also was present, turned pale and trem- 
bled at the sight of Marion, giving up all for lost.— - 
But how great, how agreeable was his surprise, when 
instead of hearing the general thundering against him 
for judgment, he heard him imploring for mercy ! 
His accusers were, if possible, still more astonished. 



236 THE LIFE OF 

Having counted on general Marion as his firmest foe 
they were utterly mortified to find him his fastest 
friend, and, venting their passion with great freedom, 
taxed him with inconsistency and fickleness that but 
illy suited with general Marion's character. 

" It is scarcely eighteen months, sir," said they, 
" since you treated this old rascal with the most 
pointed and public contempt, on account of the very 
crime for wliich we wish to punish him. ^nd here, 
now, instead of taking part against him, you have 
declared in his favour, and have become his warmest 
advocate with a legislature." 

" True, gentlemen," replied Marion, " but you 
should remember that it was war then ; and there- 
fore my duty to make a difference between the real 
and pretended friends of my country. But it \^ peace 
now, and we ought to remember the virtues of men, 
particularly of the old and ti?nicl^ rather than their 
follies. And we ought to remember too, that God 
has given us the victory, for which we owe him eter- 
nal gratitude. But cruelty to man is not the way to 
show our gratitude to heaven." 

Of the same complexion was his behaviour in a 
large partv at governor Matthew's table, just after 
the passage of the famous act to confiscate the estates 
of the tories. " Come., general, give us a toast^'' said the 
governor. The glasses were all filled, and the eyes 
of the company fixed upon the general, who, waving 
his bumpei in the air, thus nobly called out — " Well^ 
gentlemen., here'^s damnation to the conjiscation act?"^ 

The following anecdote of Marion 1 have heard 
from a thousand lips, and every time with that joy 
on the countenance, which evinced the deep interest 
which the heart takes in talking of things that are 
honourable to our countrymen. 

While Marion was a member of the legislature, a 
petition was presented to the house for an act of aw* 
nesty of all those arbitrary measures which the Ame- 
rican officers had been obliged to adopt during the war, 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2«7 

in order to get horses, provisions, &c. for the army. 
The petition was signed by the names of all the favou- 
rite officers of the state, and among the rest, by that of 
our hero. Some of his friends, it seemed, had done it 
for him, on the supposition that he needed such an 
act as well as the rest. But Marion, who had listened 
very attentively to the reading of the petition, on hear- 
ing his name mentioned as one of the subscribers, in- 
st^tly arose, and insisted that his name should be 
struck off from that paper. He said '' he had no manner 
of objection to the petition ; on the contrary, he most 
heartily approved of it, and meant to vote for it ; foi 
well did he know, he said, that during the war, we 
had among us a world of ignoramuses^ who, for lack 
of knowing their danger, did not care a fig how the 
war went, but were sauntering about in the woods, 
popping at the squirrels, v/hen they ought to have 
been in the field fighting the British ; that such gen- 
tlemen, since they did not choose to do any thing for 
their country themselves, might well afford to let theii 
cattle do something; and as they had not shed any of 
their blood for the public service, they might certainly 
spare a little corn to it: at any rate he had no notion, 
he said, of turning over to the mercy of these pol- 
troons, some of the choicest spirits of the nation, to 
be prosecuted and torn to pieces by them ; but that, 
nevertheless, he did not like to have his name to the 
petition, for, thank God, he had no favours to ask of 
them. And if, during the war for his country, he had 
done any of them harm, there was he^ and yondei 
his property y and let them come forward^ if they darc^ 
and demand satisfaction.'''* 

And I never heard of any man who ever accused 
Kim of the least injury done him during all the war. 

Marion continued a member of the legislature, un- 
til orders were issued to repair and put in commission 
Fort Johnson^ to the command of v/hich he was ap- 
pointed, with the pay of a.bout twenty-two hundred 
dollars per annum. Though this salary had been 



238 THE LIFE OF 

voted him chiefly because of his losses during the w«*v, 
yet it was not continued to him longer than two oi 
three years, when it was reduced to less than five hun- 
dred dollars annually. Numbers of people had their 
feelings greatly hurt on this occasion, and, I dare sayj 
much worse than his own. For he was a man who 
caied very little for money; and besides, about that 
time he entered into matrimony with that excellent 
and wealthy lady. Miss Mary Videau, who, with her 
affections, bestowed on him a fortune sufficient to sa- 
tisfy his utmost wishes, even though they had been 
far less moderate than they were. Seeing now no par- 
ticular obligation on him to continue longer in the 
public service, he gladly yielded to his sense of what 
he owed to a generous and beloved companion, and 
with her, retired to his native parish of St. John's, 
where, amidst the benedictions of his countrymen^ 
and the caresses of numerous friends, he spent the 
short remnant of his days, participating every rural 
sweet with the dear woman of his choice, feasting on 
tlic happy retrospect of a life passed in fighting for 
THE RIGHTS OF MAN, and fondly cherishing the hopes 
of a better. 



CHAPTER XXXL 

The author*s last visit to Marion — interesting' conver-^ 
sation on the importance of public instruction — 
free schools shoxvn to be a great saving to a na- 
tion, 

I OFTEN went to see Marion. Our evenings were 
passed as might have been expected between two old 
friends, who had spent their better days together in 
scenes of honourable enterprise and danger. On the 
night of the last visit I ever made him, observing that 
the clock was going for ten, I asked him if it were 
not near his hour of rest. 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. tZ9 

" Oh no," said he, " we must not talk of bed yet 
It is but seldom, you know, that we meet. And as 
this may be our laat, let us take all we can of it in 
chat. What do you think of the times ^" 
" O glorious times," said I. 

" Yes, thank God !" replied he. " They are glorious 
times indeed ; and fully equal to all that we had in 
hope, when we drew our swords for independence. 
But I am afraid they won't last long." 
I asked him why he thought so. 
" Oh ! knowledge, sir," said he," is wanting ! know- 
ledge is wanting ! Israel of old, you know, was </e- 
stroyedfor lack of knowledge ; and all nations, all in- 
dividuals, have come to naught from the same cause." 
I told him I thought we were too happy to change 
so soon. 

" Pshaw !" replied he, " that is nothing to the pur- 
pose. Happiness signifies nothing, if it be not knoxun^ 
and properly valued, Satan, we are told, was once 
an angel of light, but for want of duly considering his 
glorious state, he rebelled and lost all. And how 
many hundreds of young Carolinians have we not 
known, whose fathers left them all the means of hap- 
piness ; elegant estates, handsome wives, and, jn 
shoit, every blessing that the most luxurious could 
desire ? Yet they could not rest, until by drinking 
and gamblings they had fooled away their fortunes, 
parted from their wives, and rendered themselves the 
veriest beggars and blackguards on earth. 

" Now, why was all this, but for lack oj knoivledgef 
For had those silly ones but known the evils of pover- 
ty, what a vile thing it was to wear a dirty shirt, a 
long beard, and ragged coat; to go without a dinner, 
or to spunge for it among growling relations ; or to 
be bespattered, or run over in the streets, by the sons 
of those who were once their fathers' overseers ; I say^ 
had those poor boobies, in the days of their prospe- 
rity, known these thir.gs as they norjj do^ would they 
have squandered away the precious means of inde- 



240 THE LIFE OF 

pendence and pleasure, and have brought themselves 
to all this shame and sorrow ? No, never, never, never. 

"And so it is, most exactly, with nations. If those 
that 2iX^free and happy ^ did but kno-w their blessings, 
do you think they would ever exchange them for 
slavery ? If the Carthagenians, for example, in the 
days of their freedom and self-government, when they 
obeyed no laws but of their own making ; paid no 
taxes, but for their own benefit ; and, free as air, pur- 
sued their own interest as they liked ; I say, if that 
once glorious and happy people had known their 
blessings, would they have sacrificed them all, by 
their accursed factions ^ to the Romans, to be ruled, 
they and their children, with a rod of iron ; to be bur- 
dened like beasts, and crucified like malefactors ? 

" No, surely they would not. 

" Well, now to bring this home to ourselves. We 
fought for self-government ; and God hath pleased to 
give us one, better calculated perhaps to protect our 
rights^ to foster our virtues^ to call forth our energies, 
and to advance our condition nearer to perfection 
and happiness, than any government that was ever 
framed under the sun. 

*' But what signifies even this government, divine 
as it is, if it be not known and prized as it deserves ?" 

I asked him how he thought this was best to be 
done? 

"\Vhy, certainly," replied \\e^*'''hy free schools.^^ 

I shook my head. 

He observed it, and asked me what I meant by 
that ? 

I told him I was afraid the legislature would look 
to their popularity, and dread the expense. 

He exclaimed, " God preserve our legislature from 
swch ^ penny 7vit and pound fooUshne^-s T What sir! 
keep a nation in ignorance, rather than vote a little 
of their own money for education ! Only let such poli- 
ticians remember, what poor Carolina has already 
lost through her ignorance. What was it that brought 



GEN FRANCIS MARION. S41 

the British, last war, to Carolina, but her lack of 
knowledge ? Had the people been enlightened, they 
would have been united; and had they been united, 
they never would have been attacked a second time by 
the British. For after that drubbing they got from 
us at fort Moultrie, in 1 7r6, they would as soon have 
attacked the devil as have attacked Carolina again. 
had they not heard that they were ' a house divided 
against itself;^ or in other words, had amongst us a 
great number of Tories ; men, who, through mere 
ignorance, were disaffected to the cause of liberty, and 
ready to join the British against their own country- 
men. Thus, ignorance begat toryism, and toryism 
begat losses in Carolina, of which few have any idea. 

" According to the best accounts, America spent 
in the last war, seventy millions of dollars, which, 
divided among the states according to their popula- 
tion, gives to Ca/olina about eight millions ; making, 
as the war lasted eight years, a million a year. Now, 
it is generally believed, the British, after their loss of 
Burgoyne and their fine northern army, would soon 
nave given up the contest, had it not been for the foot- 
nold they got in Carolina, which protracted the war 
at least two years longer. And as this two years* 
ruinous war in Carolina was owing to the encourage- 
ment the enemy got there, and that encouragement to 
toryism, and that toryism to ignorance, ignorance ma\ 
fairly be debited to two millions of loss to Carolina. 

"Well, in these two rxtia years of tory-begotten 
war, Carolina lost, at. least four thousand men ; and 
among them, a Laurens, a Wiliiams, a Campbell^ a 
Haynesy and many others, whose worth not the gold 
of Ophir could value. But rated at the price at which 
the prince of Hesse sold his people to George the 
ITiird, to shoot the Americans, say, thirty pounds 
sterling ahead, or one hundred and fifty dollars, tliey 
make six hundred thousand dollars. Then count the 
tweuty-five thousand slaves which Cariolina certainly 
lost, and each slave at the moderate !:>nce of three 
W 



242 THE LIFE OF 

hundred dollars, and yo\^ have seven millions five 
hundred thousand. To this add the houses, barns, 
and stables that were bu^-it ; the plate plundered ; the 
furniture lost j tlie hoga sheep and horned cattle kill- 
ed; the rice, corn and other crops destroyed, and 
they amount, at the most moderate calculation, to five 
millions. 

" Now, to say nothing of those losses, which can- 
h not be rated by dollars and cents, such as the destruc- 

tion of morals and the distraction of childless parents 
and widows, but counting those only that are of the 
plainest calculations, such as, 
1st. Carolina's loss in the extra two> g 2 000 000 

year's war, 5 ' ' 

2d. For her four thousand citizens } -qq 00^ 

slain in that time, 5 ' 

3d. For twenty-five thousand slaves > ^ »qq O^q 

lost, J ' ' 

4th. For buildings, furniture, cattle, 1 _ ^vv^ r^rxr 

gram, &c. &c. destroyed, J ? ? 



Sl5,100,00C 



Making the enormous sum of fifteen millions and 
odd dollars capital; and bearing an annual interest 
of nearly ten hundred l;hou sand dollars besides! and 
all this for lack of a few free schools, which would 
have cost the state a mere nothing." 

I sighed, and told him I wished he had not broach- 
ed the subject, for it had made me very sad. 

" Yes," replied he, ^^ it is enough to make any one 
sad. But it cannot be helped but by a wiser course 
of things ; for, if peop' e will not do what will make 
them happy, God will surely chastise them; and this 
dreadful loss of jmblic property is one token of his 
displeasure at our neglect of public instruction." 

I asked him if this were really his belief. " Yes, 
sir," replied he, rnth ^ reat earnestness, " it is my be- 
lief, and I would not exchange it for worlds. It is 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 243 

my firm belief, that every evil under the sun is of the 
nature of chastisement, and appointed of the infi- 
nitely good Being for our benefit. When you see a 
youth, who, but lately, was the picture of bloom and 
manly beauty, now utterly withered and decayed ; his 
body bent; his teeth dropping out ; his nose consum- 
ed ; with foetid breath, ichorous eyes, and his whole 
appearance most putrid, ghastly, and loathsome, you 
are filled with pity and with horror ; you can hardly 
believe there is a God, or hardly refrain from charg- 
ing him with cruelty. But, where folly raves, wisdom 
adores. In this awful scourge of lawless lusty wisdom 
discerns the infinite price which heaven sets on con- 
jugal purity and love. In like manner, the enormous 
sacrifice of public property, in the last war, being no 
more, as before observed, than the natural effect of 
public ig-norance^ ought to teach us that of all sins, 
there is none so hateful to God as national igyiorance ; 
that unfailing spring of national ingratitude, 

REBELLION, SLAVERY, and WRETCHEDNESS ! 

" But if it be melancholy to think of so many ele 
gant houses, rich furniture, fat cattle, and precious 
crops, destroyed for want of that patriotism which » 
true knowledge of our interests would have inspired ; 
then how much more melancholy to think of those 
torrents of precious blood that were shed, those cruel 
slaughters and massacres, that took place among the 
citizens from the same cause ! As proof that such hell- 
ish tragedies would never have been acted, had our 
state but been enlightened, only let us look at the peo- 
ple of New England. From Britain, their fathers had 
fled to America for religion's sake. Religion had 
taught them that God created men to be happy ; that 
5o be happy they must have virtue ; that virtue is not 
to be attained without knowledge^ nor knowledge with- 
out instruction^ nor public instruction without ^ree 
schools^ nor free schools without legislative order. 

^ Among a people who fear God, the knowledge of 
duty is the same as doing it. Believing it to be th« 



244 THE LIFE OF 

first command of God, " let there be light;" and be- 
lieving it to be the will of God that" all should be in- 
structed, from the least to the greatest," these wise 
legislators at once set about public instruction. They 
did not ask, how will my constituents like this ? won't 
they turn me out ? shall I not lose my three dollars 
per day ? No ! but fully persuaded that public instruc- 
tion is God's will, because the people's good, they set 
about it like the true friends of the people. 

*' Now mark the happy consequence. When the 
war broke out, you heard of no division in New Engw 
land, no toryism, nor any of its horrid effects ; no 
houses in flames, kindled by the hands of fellow-citi- 
zens, no neighbours waylaying and shooting their 
neighbours, plundering their property, carrying off 
their stock, and aiding the British in the cursed work 
of American murder and subjugation. But on the con- 
trary, with minds well informed of their rights, and 
hearts glowing with love for themselves and posteri- 
ty, they rose up against the enemy, firm and united, 
as a band of shepherds against the ravening wolves. 

" And their valour in the field gave glorious proof 
how men will fight when they know that their all is at 
stake. See major Pitcaini, on the memorable 19th of 
April 1775^ marching from Boston, with one thousand 
British regulars, to burn the American stores at Con- 
cord. Though this heroic excursion was commenced 
under cover of the night, the farmers soon took the 
alarm, and gathering around them with their fowling 
pieces, presently knocked down )one-founh of their 
number, and caused the rest to run, as if, like the 
swine in the gospel, they had a legion of devils at 
their hacks. 

" Now, with sorrowful eyes, let us turn to our own 
state, where no pains were ever taken to enlighten the 
minds of the poor. There we have seen a people na- 
turally as brave as the New Englanders, for mere 
lack of knowledge of their blessings possessed^ of the 
dangers threatened^ suffci lord Cornwallis, w«th 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 2ii 

only sixteen hundred men, to chase general Greene 
upwards of three hundred miles ! In fact, to scout 
him through the two great states of South and North 
Carolina as far as Guildford court-house ! and, when 
Greene, joined at that place by two thousand poor 
illiterate militia-men, determined at length to fight, 
what did he gain by them, with all their number, but 
disappointment and disgrace ? For, though posted 
very advantageously behind the corn-field fences, they 
could not stantl a single fire from the British, but in 
spite of their officers, broke and fled like base-born 
slaves, leaving their loaded muskets sticking in the 
fence corners ! 

" But, from this shameful sight, turn again to the 
i?iv\d o( Jree schools ; to Bunker's Hill. There, be- 
hind a poor ditch of half a night's raising, you be- 
hold fifteen hundred militia-men waiting the approach 
of three thousand British regulars xvith a heavy train 
of artillery / With such odds against them, such fear- 
uil odds in numbers, discipline, arms, and martial 
fame, will they not shrink from the contest, and, 
like their southern friends, jump up and run ! Oh no ; 
to a man they have been taught to read i to a man 
they have been instructed to knoxv^ and dearer than 
life to prize, the blessings of freedom. Their bodies 
are lying behind ditches, but their thoughts are on 
the wing, darting through eternity. The warning 
voice of God still rings in their ears. The hated 
forms of proud merciless kings pass before their eyes. 
They look back to the days of old, and strengthen 
themselves as they think what their gall ant forefathers 
dared for liberty and for them. They looked 
forward to their own dear children, and yearn over 
the unoflfending millions, now, in tearful eyes, looking 
up to them for protection. And shall this infinite 
host of deathless beings, created in God's own image,, 
and capable by virtue and equal laws, of endless 
progression in glory and happiness ; shall they be ar- 
rested in their high career, and from the freeborn 
W2 



246 THE LIFE OF 

sons of God, be degraded into the slaves of man ? 
Maddening at the accursed thought, they grasp their 
avenging firelocks, and drawing their sights along 
the death-charged tubes, they long for the coming up 
of the British thousands. Three times the British 
thousands came up ; and three times the dauntless 
yeomen, waiting their near approach, received them 
in storms of thunder and lightning that shivered theii 
ranks, and heaped the field with their weltering car- 
casses. 

" In short, my dear sir, men will always fight for 
their government, according to their sense of its 
value. To value it aright, they must understand it. 
This they cannot do w^ithout education. And as a 
large portion of the citizens are poor, and can never 
attain that inestimable blessing, without the aid of 
government, it is plainly the first duty of government 
to besto\f it freely upon them. And the more per- 
fect the government, the greater the duty to make it 
well known. Selfish and oppressive governments, in- 
deed, as Christ observes, must " hate the light, and 
fear to come to it, because their deeds are evil.^* But 
a fair and cheap government, like our republic, " longs 
for the light, and rejoices to come to the light, thai 
it may be manifested to be from God,'* and well 
worth all the vigilance and valour that an enlightened 
nation can ndly ?or its defence. And, God knows, 
a good government can hardly ever be half anxious 
enough to give its citizens a thorough knowledge of 
its o%vii excellencies. For as some of the most valu- 
able truths", for lack of careful promulgation, have j 
been lost ; so the best government on earth, if not 
duly known and prized, may be subverted. Ambi- 
tious demagogues will rise, and the people, through 
ignorance^ and love of change^ will folio v/ them. 
Vast armies will be formed, and bloody battles fought, 
And after desolating their countrj' with all the hor- 
rors of civil war, the guilty survivors will have tc 
bend their necks to the iron joke of some stern 



GEN. FRANCIS MARtON. ii? 

usurper, and like beasts of burden, to drag, unpitied, 
diose galling ch-ains which they have riveted upon 
themselves for ever." 

This, as nearly as I can recollect, was the substance 
of the last dialogue I ever had with Marion. It was 
spoken with an emphasis which I shall never forget. 
Indeed he described the glorious action at Bunker's 
Hill, as though he had been one of the combatants. 
His agitation was great, his voice became altered and 
broken ; and his face kindled over with that living 
fire with which it was wort to burn, when he entered 
the battles of his country. I arose from my seat as he 
spoke ; and on recovering from the magic of his 
tongue, found myself bending forward to the voice 
of my friend, and my right hand stretched by my 
side ; it was stretched to my side for the sword that 
was wont to burn in the presence of Marion when 
battle rose, and the crowding foe was darkening 
around us. * But thanks to God, 'twas sweet delusion 
all. No sword hung burning by my side ; no crowd- 
ing foe darkened around us. In dust or in chains they 
had all vanished away, and bright in his scabbard 
rested the sword of peace in my own pleasant halls 
on Winyaw bay. 



248 THE LIFE OF - 

'J 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

The death of Marion — his character. 

** Next to Washington, O glorious shade ! 

" In page historic shall thy name have place, 
** Deep on thy country's memory are portrayed 

** Those gallant deeds which time shall ne'er eraae. 

** Ah I full of honours^ and of years ^farewell I 

" Thus o'er thy tomb shall Carolina sigh ; 
" Each tongue thy valour and thy worth shall tell, 

*' Which taught the young to fight, tlie old to die," 

THE next morning, I set out for my plantation on 
Winyaw bay. Marion, as usual, accompanied me to 
my horse, and, at parting, begged I would come and 
see him again soon^ for that he felt he had not long 
to stay. As the reader may suppose, I paid but little 
heed to this expression, which I looked on as no more 
than the common cant of the aged. But I soon had 
cause to remember it with sorrow. For I had been 
but a few weeks at home, before, opening a Charles- 
ton paper, I found in a mourning column, "The 
DEATH OF GENERAL Marion." Nevcr shall I for- 
get the heart-sickness of that moment ; never forget 
what I felt when first I learned that Marion was no 
more. Though the grave v/as between us, yet his be* 
loved image seemed to appear before me fresher than 
ever. All our former friendships, all our former wars 
returned. But alas ! he who was to me the soul of all 
the rest ; the foremost in every battle ; the dearest at 
every feast ; he shall return no more ! " Oh Marion, 
my friend !" my bursting heart seemed to say, " and 
art thou gone ? Shall I no mere hear that voice which 
was always so sweet ; no more see that smile which 
awakened up such joy in my soul ! Must that beloved 
form be lost forever among the clods of the valley! 
And those godlike virtues, shall they pass away like 
the empty visions of the night 1'^ 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 249 

From this deep gloom which strong atheistic sor- 
row had poured over my nerves, I was suddenly 
roused, as by an angePs touch, to the bright hopes of 
religion. The virtues of my departed friend all flash- 
ed at once upon my kindling thoughts ; his counte- 
nance so stern with honour; his tongue so sacred to 
truth i that heart always so ready to meet death in 
defence of the injured; that eye ever beaming bene- 
volence to man, and that whole life so reverential of 
God. The remembrance, I say, of all these things, 
came in streams of joy to my heart. 

" P happy Marion I'* I exclaimed, " thou art safe, 
my friend ; thou art safe. No tears of mine shall 
doubt thy blissful state. Surely if there be a God, 
and that there is, all nature cries aloud through all 
her works, he must delight in virtue, and what he de- 
lights in must be happy." 

Then it was, that I felt what a benefactor Marion 
had been to me. How dear his company while liv« 
ing ; how sweet his memory when dead. Like the 
sun travelling in brightness, his smiles had ever been 
my joy, his example my light. And though now set 
in the grave, yet has he not left me in darkness. His 
virtues^ like stars, are lighted up after him. They 
point my hopes to the path of glory ; and proclaim, 
that, though fallen, he is not extinguished. 

From the physicians and many others who attend- 
ed him in his last illness, I learned that he had died 
as he had lived, a truly great man. His chamber 
was not, as is usual with dying persons, a scene of 
gloom and silent distress, but rather like the cheerful 
parlour of one who was setting out on an agreeable 
journey. " Some," said he, "have spoken of death 
as a leap in the dark ; but for my part, I look on it 
as a welcome resting place ^ where virtuous old age 
may throw down his pains and aches, wipe off his old 
scores, and begin anew on an innocent and happy state 
that shall last for ever. What weakness to wish to 
live to such ghastly dotage, as to frighten the chil- 



&S0 THE LIFE OF 

dren, and make even the dogs to baik at us as we 
totter along the streets. Most certainly then, there is 
a time when, to a £;-ood man, death is a great mercy 
even to his body ; and as to his soul, why should he 
tremble about that ? Who can doubt that God created 
as to be happy ; and thereto made us to love one ano- 
ther P which is plainly written in our hearts ; whose 
every thought and work of love is happiness, and as 
plainly written as the gospel ; whose every line 
breathes love, and every precept enjoins good works. 
Now, the man who has spent life in bravely denying 
himself every inclination that would make others 
miserable, and in courageously doing all in his power 
to make them happy, what has such a man to fear 
from death, or rather, what glorious things has he not 
to hope from it ?" 

Hearing one of his friends say that the methodists 
and baptists were progressing rapidly in some parts 
of the state, he replied, " Well, thank God for that ; 
that is good news." The same gentleman then asked 
him which he thought was the best religion. " I know 
but one religion," he answered, " and that is hearty 
love of God and man. This is the only true religion ; 
and I would to God our country was full of it. Jor 
it is the only spice to embalm and to immortalize 
our republic. Any politician can sketch out a fine 
theory of government, but what is to bind the peo* 
pie to the practice ? Archimedes used to mourn that 
though his mechanic powers were irresistible, yet 
he could never raise the world; because he had nc 
place in the heavens, whereon to fix his puUies. Even 
so, our republic will never be raised above the shame- 
ful factions and miserable end of all other govern- 
ments, until our citizens come to have their hearts 
like Archimedes' puUies, fixed on heaven. The xvorld 
sometimes make such bids to ambition, that nothing 
but heaven can outbid her. The heart is sometimes 
so embittered, that nothing but divine love can sweeten 
it J so enraged^ that devotion only can becalm it; and 



GEN. FRANCIS MARION. 251 

so broke down, that it takes all the force of heavenly 
hope to raise it. In short, religion is the only sove- 
»*eigii and controlling power over man. Bound by 
that, the rulers will never usurp, nor the people rebel. 
The former will govern like fathers, and the latter 
obey like children. And thus moving on, firm and 
united as a host of brothers, they will continue invin- 
cible as long as they continue virtuous." 

When he was near his end, seeing his lady weep- 
ing by his bedside, he gave her a look of great ten- 
derness, and said, " My dear, weep not for me, I am 
not afraid to die ; for, thank God, I can lay my hand 
on my heart and say, that since I came to man's es- 
tate, I have never intentionally done wrong to any." 

These were nearly his last words, for shortly 
after uttering them, he closed his eyes in the sleep 
of death. 

Thus peaceful and happy was the end of general 
Francis Marion, of whom, as a partisan officer^ ge- 
neral Greene has often been heard to say, that " the 
page of history never furnished his equal." And if 
any higher praise of Marion were necessary, it is to 
be found in the very remarkable resemblance between 
Jiim and the great Washington. They both came 
orward. volunteers in the service of their country ; 
they both learned the military art in the hard and 
hazardous schools of Indian warfare ; they were both 
such true soldiers in vigilance^ that no enemy could 
ever surprise them ; and so equal in undaunted va^ 
iour, that nothing could ever dishearten them : while 
as to the still nobler virtues of patience, disinterest- 
edness, self-government, severity to themselves and 
generosity to their enemies, it is difficult to determine 
whether Marion or Washington most deserve our 
admiration. And even in the lesser incidents of their 
lives, the resemblance between these two great men 
is closer than common. They were both born in the 
same year ; both lost their fathers in early life ; both 



5152 THE LIFE Ol GEN. MARION. 

married excellent and rcealihy ladies; both lef 
dows ; and both died. childless. 

The name of jV^rion continues dear to the people 
of the south ; and to this day, whenever his amiable 
widow rides through the country, she meets t^ 
most pleasing evidences, that her husband, thou/^ 
dead, is not forgotten. The wealthy every where^ 
treat her with the respect due to a mother y while 
the poor, gathering around her carriage, often press 
to shake hands with her, then looking at each oth' 
with a sigh they exclaim — ^"That's the ^i in*?, 

OP OUR GLOJRIOUS OLD MaRION." 



THE 'T:?vr?. 




